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Around the World 
Without a Cent 



BY 

HENRY SPICKLER 



"Railway traveling is not traveling, it is merely being 
sent to a place like a parcel." — Ruskin. 

"The world is a great book of which they who never 
stir from home read only one page." — Augustine. 

"Travel is fatal to prejudice." — Mark Twain. 



Price $2.25 



Dedicated to Those Who Ride a Bicycle and to the 

BOY SCOUTS AND CAMP-FIRE GIRLS 

Whose Principles and Ideals are Making Them the Greatest 
Human Force the World Has Ever Seen 



(x HHo 

. S 19 



Copyright 1922 By 

Henry Spickler 

Publisher 



wOPYRIQHT OFFIQF 



: I8££ 



DEC 2471 



AROUND THE WORLD 

WITHOUT A CENT 



TIME THREE YEARS 

DISTANCE FORTY THOUSAND MILES 

COUNTRIES VISITED TWENTY 



AUTHOR WORE OUT 

Seven Pairs of Tires. Seven Suits of Clothes. Seven Pairs 

of Shoes. One Razor. Two Cyclometers. 

Three Lamps. Four Chains. 



Earned money by working as acrobat, adver- 
tiser, agent, auto-meehanic, athletics, bank collector, 
barber, bell-hop, bill-poster, buyer, card-letterer, 
carpenter, cashier, cattleman, companion, cook, cor- 
respondent, demonstrator, devil, ditcher, driver, 
editorial writer, entertainer, eye-doctor, farmer, food- 
collector, foreman, fruit picker, gardener, grinder, 
guard, guide, gymnast, hair dresser, hat cleaner, 
hired-man, hotel-runner, ice-cream maker, interpreter, 
jam maker, janitor, juggler, laborer, lecturer, lodge 
organizer, magnetic healer, manager, masseur, mes- 
senger-boy, monologist, packer, painter, palmist, 
peddler, pen artist, photographer, poet, preacher, 
publisher, railroader, roustabout, sailor, salesman, 
signature writer, singer, sleight-of-hand, solicitor, 
stamp-collector, stenographer, stevedore, teacher, 
trick-cyclist, waiter, window dresser, wood-chopper. 

(Entered according to Act of Congress.) 



AROUND THE WORLD 

WITHOUT A CENT 

BY HENRY SPICKLER 



IT was somewhere in the Wicklow Mountains on 
the coast-road between Dublin and Cork. The 
hour was noon, the day cold and wet. My only 
lunch was a half loaf of bread strapped to the wheel, 
which I leaned against a sod fence, and on the easy 
hospitality of the Island, was admitted into an Irish 
woman's cottage. I had paid a certain definite re- 
spect to the other inmate of the house — a long razor- 
back sow that came out as I went in. For some pic- 
tures which I carried I wished to obtain some bacon, 
a kindness never failing among the Irish, no matter 
how poor they might be, little thinking that the sow 
had also the same pain of hunger and was so soon 
to satisfy it at my expense. 

"From Ameriky !" said she, when I told her of my 
mission, "whare yez hiv iv'rything to ate and dhrink, 
and yez come over here to stharve !" 

I had been listening and looking. The small chunk 
of peat lay on the open fire-place, smoking, but as 
usual not giving forth any heat. A pair of tongs and 
a wornout hand-bellows lay near by. In the middle 
of the floor was a puddle of water. An old clock that 
hadn't run for fifty years and a cheap crucifix were 
the only other ornaments on a heather-bordered shelf 
by a dusty chromo of the Virgin. 

"Youse look loike yer big and sthrong, why isn't 
yez home with yer folks, raisin' yer own pig?" 

I told her more about my travels — that I was going 
around the world to see how the people lived. 



AROUND THE WORLD 

"To see how they live? An' hasn't yez houses in 
Ameriky ? ' ' 

I told her we had. Then she ' ' crossed ' ' herself, as a 
rooster, sporting a solitary tail feather, preceded two 
old hens down through the window in the cabin. 

"Yes," I said, "I am to study people around the 
globe." 
" "The globe ! Now what 's that ? ' ' 

"Why, you see I mean to go clear around the world. 
I am going to ride to Rome to see the Pope, and I 'm 
now on my way to see Cork." 

' ' Ter see Cork-k ! And yez are goin' ter ride all the 
way jes' ter see Cork-k! Can't yez see it on the map?" 

Some people never see anything or get any place 
except on the map. She little dreamed of the great 
value of travel. Her vision of the earth was limited 
to the few wild hills around her cabin, and the map 
she once saw in a geography when a little girl. Little 
did she prize that wonderful camera, the eye, made 
that we might see the beauties and wonders of crea- 
tion — that human lens that photogTaphs more in ten 
seconds than the human mind can grasp in ten years ! 
Though she gave me no food, I was glad I could ride 
away. Like many others she was content, though her 
head be as empty as her house, to find out things and 
get to places ON THE MAP ! 

Discouraged in spirit and hungry in stomach, I 
came out to find that the sow had found the bread on 
my wheel and was swallowing great portions of it ! 
"Can't yez see it on the map!" I was more than 
half inclined to think that this was the best way to 
see Cork, or any other place. 

I am the man who rode a bicycle around the world 
without a cent. On leaving school in the year 19 — , I 
passed out of the east door of our home in Polo, Illi- 
nois, kissed my mother and sister good-bye, and with- 
out a single penny in my pocket, with my face to the 
East, resolved to keep going until I rode around the 
Earth and entered our home by its west door. 



WITHOUT A CENT 

It is a queer sensation to leave home on a forty- 
thousand mile journey without a single penny in your 
pocket. My first money was by selling a pair of sus- 
penders for ten cents. My next was earned by pulling 
beans for a farmer. I was already far from home 
when my first night out caused me to look for supper 
and bed at a farm-house. 

At the end of the first week I found that by deduct- 
ing the number of miles ridden I had only 39,726 yet 
to ride, and I was only a little homesick. I needed 
some clothes, so I hit upon the idea of stopping at 
' ' district schools ' ' and giving the pupils an entertain- 
ment. Blushing like a red apple, a pretty girl invited 
me in at the school where I knocked. When I saw 
that she was the teacher I told her what I was doing, 
and offered to tell about my trip for fifty cents. She 
happened to have that amount with her. 

Before riding through Ohio I turned aside to see 
Michigan. It was in the finest of September, with 
cream and peaches served at tables, and sparkling 
water from deep wells. To increase my funds for 
expenses I had some recipes printed which I traded 
in for meals and sold. 

Automobiles already claimed the street in Detroit, 
Henry Ford 's town. The trolleys ran at terrific speed. 
Almost daily someone was injured by them. One day 
a man was run over and cut into a couple of big pieces 
and some smaller ones. "When the motorman came 
back that way again he found the man's foot, which 
he held in his hand as a delicate lady was about to 
leave his car. 

"Do you think he'll want it?" she asked, ner- 
vously. 

"No, he has wings now; but I have a dog at my 
house." 

My first real job was in the Reo Motor Shops, where 
I worked on sixteen different parts of the car, making 
some of them myself. As my work required the close 
attention of the foreman, my wage was low. I could 



AROUND THE WORLD 

never include fowl in my menu. A Scotch picnic was 
to be held down the river where a chicken-race was to 
be put on. I wanted a chicken, so I entered the race. 
In this race of two hundred yards we were forbidden 
to touch our bird, to push or pull him. We simply 
had to keep behind him, hold to the other end of the 
string, and let him go, no matter what direction he 
chose. Three of the contestants had shooed their 
birds to the middle of the race-course when mine had 
just taken the third start for the same place. As he 
neared the center field a big woman with fluffy white 
dress scared him, so that he ran and flew far back to 
the beginning. The fourth time we started amid the 
hurrahs and laughs of the crowd. Wibble-wabble, 
here and there, now ahead, now astern, he crossed the 
center line and hurried me toward the finish. Most 
of the others were close behind. Then our racers 
became mixed up among the strings so that we could 
hardly separate them. One man got free, and with a 
big Buff-Cochin was seemingly winning the prize from 
us. He was all but over the line. But the people 
helped him too much. They pressed near him, yell- 
ing, shouting, gesticulating, when the fowl took wing, 
circled over his head, and dragged him back to the 
very start. By this time all of our birds had been 
unwound, and mine had safely passed the dreadful 
dress at which he had repeatedly balked. He now 
shot ahead, while one of the other two roosters" joined 
the first, until both were now apparently out of the 
race. The two contestants on the right were about 
neck to neck with mine, when suddenly both stopped. 
Mine was slowly moving, and in the right direction. 
In the most flattering tones I coaxed him, making 
myself big by spreading out my legs and arms so he 
would just have to move ahead. Ten feet more and 
he would be over the line. Then the other roosters 
tried to circle back past their captives. Mine was 
all but on the line. But his mind was elsewhere. He 
meant to "bolt." At this moment the first rooster 



WITHOUT A CENT 

on my right made a jump and a fly for the goal, stop- 
ping one short foot from it. Here he imitated the 
slow ''one-step" of my rooster, going straight 
towards the line. Of course I didn 't want him to keep 
on, and my wishes were the same as our competitors. 
The holder of the string was so sure he was winning 
he threw up his hands in a hurrah. But he hadn 't won 
yet. There was still a chance for us. Then my bird 
with a loud "kuk! kuk!!" turned and carried me 
back to the half-way mark, when he saw the white 
dress. In a flash he whirled, shot between my legs and 
headed straight for the goal. My rival in the mean- 
time had been too eager to win, and in coming within 
a few inches of the goal he had touched the rooster. 
For this he was set back to the half-way point. Down 
the line I came, my rooster on the full run, his mouth 
wide open for air, his wings whipping the breeze. The 
great crowd yelled and threw their hats. It was my 
racer they were watching now. If he kept on my bird 
would win ! 

He did keep on. He crossed the line ahead of all 
the others, and I grabbed him up into my arms. My 
rivals were out of breath and discouraged. They con- 
tended among themselves with their birds for awhile 
and then, time having been called, the judges gave 
me my winning rooster and the other four. 

TWICE ACROSS GARFIELD'S STATE 

I took time to ride twice over the state of Ohio. 
From Toledo I rode to the extreme south on good 
roads, with deep patches of woodland, and big barns 
well-painted. Guide boards told me where to go. 
The country schools were usually of red brick. The 
windows were protected by wire screens. In the 
cupola hung a bell. Charts and globes helped the 
pupils to understand their world, and library cases 
were full of books — some of them actually readable. 

It was "apple time" in Ohio, and orchards groaned 
under tremendous yield. Then, too, I stopped at cider 



AROUND THE WORLD 

presses, filling up on sweet cider ; and at creameries, 
fattening on buttermilk and cream. I had chicken 
and sausage, apple-sauce, and custard-pie every day. 

I could oil my wheel on the run when I rode through 
the Lima oil-fields. Hundreds of monster circular 
tanks about five hundred feet apart squatted like set- 
ting hens over hundreds of acres. A small amount of 
sulphur in the oil makes it useless as an illuminant. 
Paraffin or white chewing-gum was one of the many 
by-products that were formerly discarded but which 
now sell at fancy figures. At the mouth of deep wells 
I tramped in black grease and sticky tar, while lying 
among this foul stuff were chunks of paraffin as white 
as snow and good to chew. The crude oil is pumped 
by steam, one man tending many wells. The oil is 
forced through pipes for great distances, sometimes 
hundreds of miles, to the supply tanks. As I rode 
along I saw hundreds of tall towers over wells that 
were being drilled one to three thousand feet deep. 
When done the tower is removed, and if the flow of 
oil is promising a simple derrick is erected over the 
well to support the pump and its machinery, all of 
which is simple and inexpensive. 

Near Dayton a tack gave me my first puncture, 
when my cyclometer registered 718 miles. 

To see the Indian Mounds I rode to the lowest por- 
tion of the State, where as I sat upon the grassy head 
of the Serpent Mound the sun was setting. 

There was the same old creek. Around me were the 
awful hills. Here once sounded the tocsin of war, 
when white scalp dangled at belt of brave. The sun set 
in wondrous color, gilding the hills with last rays, the 
hollows in deep shadow. From scores of chimneys 
rose the smoke of thrifty firesides. 

Of all the thousands I met on the road in Ohio but 
one refused me the road. His neighbor told me he 
was a wife-beater. After that when I met anyone 
who refused me half of the road I knew he was a 
coward. 



WITHOUT A CENT 

Grapes had all been picked in Ohio, but when I 
reached Lake Erie, not far from Cleveland, where 1 
lodged at the Salvation Army Barracks, the vines 
were full, fifty miles of them — Delawares, Concords, 
black, white, blue and pink grapes. The owners told 
me to help myself. Though western New York sum- 
mer is shorter than that of Illinois and autumn comes 
earlier, the lake water tempers the climate, prevent- 
ing the fruit from chilling. Into Buffalo I rode eighty- 
two miles one day and seventy-two the next day, drag- 
ging a punctured tire ten miles. 

With five cents in my pocket I asked for work on 
the Buffalo docks. I was to get thirty cents an hour. 
My first job was in unloading a giant ship of bags and 
barrels of merchandise. My two-wheeled truck was 
clumsy and heavy. Soon my hands felt as if they 
were pulling out at the wrists. "When I sought a sec- 
ond for rest the foreman always saw me and yelled, 
' ' Get a truck, d you ! " • 

I was never happier than when with my cycle. It is 
the best means for easy, quick, cheap, enjoyable loco- 
motion. The fact that you are the power and engineer 
makes your tour more interesting than to sit flat, 
dizzy with laziness, in a vehicle propelled by other 
energy than your own. It is the glow of health, the 
color in the cheek, the rushing of red blood through 
your entire system, the blowing up and enlarging of 
the lungs with pure, sweet air, the working of the legs 
and feet, the harmonious balance of every muscle and 
nerve and brain center, the graceful coursing of the 
gentle steed beneath you that makes the bicycle the 
most desirable of all carriages as it glides noiseless 
up and down the scenic road. Indoor people should 
take long rides on the bike. Their cramped positions 
and nervous strains call for outdoor activity. Pale 
cheeks, dull eyes, thin blood send the business to the 
rival. A spin on a good wheel is the greatest happi- 
ness-getter and success-builder one may find. It is 
the only doctor one needs. 



AROUND THE WORLD 

In New York State I had a thrilling ride on what is 
known as the "Ridge Road, " five to fifteen feet above 
the level, running from Buffalo via Niagara Falls to 
Rochester. Full of curves, and picturesque, smooth 
and easy to ride, I wondered how it happened. On 
my left were the dim-distant waters of Lake Ontario, 
and I guessed rightly that the lake once reached out 
here, throwing up this ancient boulevard. "We did 
not make it ; God made it, ' ' said an old man in a vil- 
lage near Niagara Falls, where my wheel and I, on 
the very edge of the swirling abyss, looked down at 
the foaming waters from every angle. 

But the good weather was coming to an end. The 
whole country had been warned of an approaching 
blizzard that was due on the morrow. At a prosper- 
ous brown-stone house in the country I was received 
by a grown son. When his mother returned from 
shopping in a near-by town, her son's welcome was 
instantly confirmed by her sweet "Good evening!" 
Her supper was dainty and nutritious. She opened a 
can of the best peaches that had ripened in her own 
yard, and that is why I took the third dish, with yel- 
low cream. She evidently had been a college girl or 
else a great reader and an accurate thinker. Her 
poise and balance were as pronounced as her house 
was tidy, and her refinement was contagious. While 
the wind blew harder and harder on the outside, I 
nestled my feet in the furzy softness of the big house 
dog while scanning the magazines under the soft 
glow of a good lamp. At eight we took breakfast of 
New York ham and buckwheat cakes, fresh-churned 
butter and hot maple-syrup. It was late when I set 
out, but a good path lay ahead of me, and I felt sure I 
could reach Rochester that day, where I could bunk 
over night with some school-mates. 

By noon the wind had broken into a tempest and 
flurries of snow suggested more and more violent out- 
bursts. Without knowing it I was being carried along 
by the gale. Faster and faster came the wind until 



WITHOUT A CENT 

it was next to impossible to stop my wheel. I turned 
up my storm collar, pulled down my cap, and took the 
easiest position on my saddle. The snow never seemed 
to touch the ground, and gradually became so thick 
as to hide my view ahead. 

The "Ridge Road" winds along like a lazy serpent, 
always toward the East. The storm seemed to follow 
it, favoring those who agreed with it. Never did any- 
thing so conspire to my benefit as my wheel shot along 
on its whirlwind flight. My thick, short overcoat, 
with the suitcase and other packing on the wheel, 
acted like sails, lifting me and wheel at times 
from the ground like a feathered arrow. Sometimes 
on a sharp curve or over some high bridge my 
wheel shivered in affright at the speed she was mak- 
ing. 

I must have been going a mile a minute on a down- 
grade into a deep gorge. By a sudden lifting of the 
snow I detected far below a partly ruined bridge 
hanging over a dashing torrent. I was about to leap 
from the wheel, but I was going too fast for that and 
the grade was too steep. I gripped the handles tight 
as they trembled in my hold. Now I rested my whole 
weight upon them, then upon the saddle ; now I bal- 
anced my weight between the front and rear fork as 
I just missed a jutting rock or leaped a wicked rut. 
When fifty feet from the bridge I found that the ap- 
proach had been washed away, leaving a chasm several 
feet wide. There was one chance in a hundred of my 
making the bridge and holding my wheel on it until 
we were over it. 

The bridge was several feet higher than the path. 
As the wheel was about to leap into the chasm I 
jumped into the air above it, pulling it after me and 
riding it in mid-air, jerking the front wheel up so as 
to reach the end of the extending plank, and landing 
squarely on the other side of the break where the 
bridge was still intact, bumped but not ditched by 
the loose plank. My rubber tires held to the slippery 



AROUND THE WORLD 

planks, creaking and cracking under it as the hurri- 
cane dashed me across. 

The snow fell faster. In spots the path had filled to 
a depth through which no cyclist might hope to pedal 
without the aid of such a storm as blew me on. The 
wheel itself became clogged with snow, throwing off 
little shavings that whisked into my face. Town after 
town passed like mechanical panorama. 

Then the lights of Eochester glimmered in the dis- 
tance. Pushing my wheel down the walks, I asked 
the only person I met the way to the Seminary. 
Learning of my trip, he asked me to call in the morn-, 
ing upon his father, a lawyer, who needed a stenogra- 
pher during the vacation of his regular one. 

There comes a time to every pilgrim when it is wise 
to catch breath and live like others. No matter how 
good a thing is, there is a dead-line to its enjoyment. 
Gladstone swung England, but also an ax. The clerk, 
typesetter and deskman must grease around a car, 
weed onions or feed chickens. The indoor worker 
must get out ; the outside one come in. 

Next morning I went to the law-office of Martin 
Jones, who at once engaged me as his stenographer. 
Mr. Jones had been chairman of the Peace Meeting at 
the Hague, and was the friend of two late presidents. 
Best of all, he was the father of two boys and of a 
daughter completing her higher course. I was often 
at their table, enjoying the table-talk of highbrows 
as well as the turkey. I was easily persuaded by him 
to join the Good Templars, of which he had been the 
Grand Chief of the World. I had worked for prohibi- 
tion in Illinois at my own expense as a junior in high 
school, having been beaten by a salonkeeper for mak- 
ing a speech that closed his saloon, so it was easy for 
me to keep the pledge now that there were no more 
cider presses to stop at ! 

During the winter I organized a Shakespeare Club 
mostly of young ladies, as a notice in one of the dailies 
remarked : 

12 



WITHOUT A CENT 

"Young People Organize to Study Works of Bard 
of Avon. — A Shakespeare Club was organized at No. 
12 Broadway last evening to study the drama, under 
the direction of Henry Spickler, of Polo, Illinois, who 
is spending some time in Rochester on his tour around 
the world. Mr. Spickler, who has organized similar 
clubs in the West, gave readings from the more noted 
poets. The first play selected for study was the his- 
torical 'King John.' " 

I had "blown into" Rochester all right! 

I boarded myself. How I did like to take my turn 
at the counter, jollied by eager salesmen when I 
selected just what I wanted, and went to my rooms 
with my pockets full of Aunt Jimmy's self -rising 
pancakes and army and navy beans. When the New 
York Central & Hudson River milk ran out I used 
condensed milk of the cheapest brand. "It's just the 
same as our higher brand," said the clerk, "for our 
agent told us to send for a supply of the higher-priced 
labels so that when that kind was exhausted we could 
paste them on the cheaper cans. ' ' 

On the return of his stenographer Mr. Jones secured 
me a position as collector in a loan bank. I made 
twelve hundred calls. A thousand of these delin- 
quents were drinkers. One hundred were dishonest. 
Twenty of these dared me to collect the money. 
Twelve threatened me with personal injury. Ten left 
the city. Several changed their names. Hardly one 
got away without a clue that found him out. Some 
I found in jail. Sent one day to locate a delinquent 
waiter at a restaurant, I called incognito. 

"Your friend," said his fellow waiter, "is in the 
lockup." 

The fraud who tried to evade his honest debt 
usually faced me trembling. The women could tell 
a smoother lie than the men, but after a few weeks I 
could detect the liar and bluff. One dashing fellow 
who had courted a girl five years to throw her over- 
board for another, told me I could come just once 



AROUND THE WORLD 

more. When I returned in a few days he blustered up 
towards me with, "If you come again, I'll throw you 
out ! ' ' When I called later he forgot, for he met me 
smiling with a cash payment. 

The sons of rich families borrowed heavily from 
the bank. In a beautiful palace on the boulevard the 
mother of one of these boys cried as if her heart 
would break, saying, "My boy is go — ing — wrong. 
He's in bad company. It's a bad girl. MY BOY IS 
OFF IN BODY AND MIND, sick PHYSICALLY 
AND MORALLY!" 

"You won't have my husband discharged, will 
you?" pleaded a frail young woman with three little 
ones clinging to her faded dress. Of course I would 
not. A married man could not meet payments on his 
loan and gave as a reason the purchase of an Easter 
suit. The real trouble was a second woman. 

"Don't talk so loud ! " said a man to me in the hall- 
way of a flat ; " I don 't want my wife to hear. ' ' 

"How's that?" I asked. 

"She thinks I'm getting more salary than I really 
am," and he gave me a sly wink. He got by better 
than another who borrowed to get married on. Every 
time I called he took me outside to explain. When I 
called next time he tried to usher me into a side room, 
saying, "Do I owe you for those groceries?" 

"Whether or not you owe for groceries," I said, 
"I'm here to collect what you owe my bank — the 
money you borrowed to get married on ! " He settled. 

A similar case hung on longer. At last I went to the 
wife herself. 

"You got your husband," I argued. "He had to 
borrow money to get you. You ought to help him to 
pay it back." 

"Vy should me pay you vor monies vot mine man 
he owe vor marry he me ? ' ' she asked. 

In an old flat I sought one. He had changed his 
name, skipped out, but had returned again, and had 
moved his family secretly away. Then I went to his 



WITHOUT A CENT 

mother-in-law. "With seeming pleasure she told me 
he was living at the other end of the hall. 

"Who's there?" piped a feminine voice over the 
transom, in response to my knock. 

" It 's me ! " I answered ; ' ' where 's Kimmie ? ' ' Think- 
ing I was his chum, she called him out to me. 

My sympathy went to these borrowers, dishonest 
though some of them were, and I was glad to give up 
my job, resolved to help the workers to earn more 
money rather than to try to get from them what they 
have. 

' ' May first I rode out of the "Flower City" past the 
Eastman kodak home and began clicking off the miles 
on the cinder path for New York. Slow-moving boats 
drawn by mules on the Erie Canal, where Jimmie 
Garfield once was a tow-boy, ran on one side. I soon 
struck the old Indian trail, and at Schenectady re- 
called the barbarous massacre when the town was 
attacked one cold, winter night by savages, who set 
fire to the sixty-three houses, murdering the people. 

Picturesque was the ride down Mohawk Valley, 
where the river runs swiftly over sylvan falls in a 
valley so narrow as to afford only little f armlets, while 
on each side rise precipitous hills with lofty brows. 
Three times I climbed the summit of these sublime 
heights, where the glory of New York State shows in 
full splendor. The surface up there rolled away to a 
tableland set with pretty farms, while the valley 
below glimmered in springtime serenity. 

THE CHARMING HUDSON RIVER ROAD 

On the left bank of the Hudson at Albany I began 
my ride on our American Axenstrasse, the road lead- 
ing into dark old forests as sweet as a girl's kerchief, 
with alluring visions ahead, babbling brooks and glint- 
ing glimpses of river and steamer. My cyclometer 
was clicking off 2,108 miles along this panoramic rib- 
bon, when I began to pass the homes of the wealthy. 
Of the three ways to see the Hudson — rail, river and 



AROUND THE WORLD 

road — that of the road is the best. You soon plunge 
into a series of glorious surprises, past quaint farms 
and orchards so little and homelike you can almost 
put your arms around them, while on your right, 
thick with tangled vine and flower, noble woodlands 
round the river bank. Soft curling clouds caressed 
the hills, whose dark green verdure at the summit 
rose clear and striking above the mists. At Kingston 
was Levi Morton's rich residence. At Rhinebeck, 
John Jacob Astor's place. Fifteen hundred feet 
above the river rose proud ' ' Storm King, ' ' rude guard 
of the Hudson. Rough escarpment of twisted, con- 
torted strata of rock, down which crashed lusty 
brooks, made my feet press upon the coaster-brake 
to get a longer look at the rugged beauty. At West 
Point I crossed on the ferry, an idyllic spot for the 
young defenders of our country. The enthusiasm of 
the cadets for my travel project was unbounded. 
Hardly a scene in all my travels was more majestic. 
It was here that Arnold, honored by George Washing- 
ton, bartered to England this most important fortress. 
The scene is heart-breaking. Washington had come 
to honor him as his guest. In the house a beautiful 
wife in convulsions. In the cradle a precious boy. 
At the door, General Washington! Past the fort he 
has so lately defended I see Arnold fleeing, a trem- 
bling fugitive. Leaping aboard a skiff he rows to 
the "Vulture" and escapes to London, to die in a 
wretched garret, insulted, reproached, without a 
friend. 

At Sing Sing I addressed a crowd just outside the 
high walls of that famous penitentiary, after which I 
was taken through the shops and kitchens inside. At 
my request I was locked in the "solitary confine- 
ment" cell, where the darkness was as complete as 
in Mammoth Cave, and where I heard only my own 
heart beat and the louder drumming in my ears. The 
ten seconds inside seemed like ten minutes. Sorry 
for the misguided ones inside, I rode away in the 



WITHOUT A CENT 

month of May, when the birds and the blossoms were 
out and the skies were blue, reaching William Kocke- 
feller's estate on my right and John D.'s on my left. 
Near Tarrytown I found the spot where Andre was 
captured, near which was the Irving homestead and 
Sleepy Hollow. Then I rode to Yonkers, where Wash- 
ington met Mary Phillips, then into Weehawken, 
where Alexander Hamilton was killed in the duel with 
Aaron Burr, every mile bristling with historic drama. 

At sunset I rode into New York. Full of slummy 
children that poured from doors, cracks and windows 
for six floors up, the hungry expressions of these 
future citizens looked at me as if I were part of the 
Hudson Kiver scenery. Three great cities are destined 
to lead the world — one is London; the other is Chi- 
cago ; the third is in California. 

I rode direct to the Mills Hotel No. 1, where I found 
a sumptuous structure of fifteen hundred rooms filled 
every night, with bath, books to read and laundry to 
use, for less than you are expected to spend in "tips" 
at a good hotel. 

As the coronation of the new King was to be cele- 
brated in London in June, I was most eager to find 
passage on the first possible ship over the Atlantic. 
My cash soon dwindled. Answering an ad for singers 
in one of the big churches, I was hired for the follow- 
ing Sunday at two dollars. Armed with my contract, 
I returned with glee to tell of my good fortune to my 
hobo friends, who looked at me as if I were Caruso, 
promising to divide with them after my first Sunday. 
After my ' ' coffee and ' ' on Sunday morning, I shined 
up what was left of my shoes and started for the 
church. I was so self-conscious that I did not remem- 
ber what the pastor talked about. But as I had 'ex- 
pected to sing at both services, I was surprised when 
he announced that there would be no evening service 
that day. On Monday I went around and drew my 
salary — two dollars — just the same as if I had sung 
at both services. The people seemed to have been 



AROUND THE WORLD 

satisfied. Anyway, the choirmaster told me he did 
not need me any more. I went to the Jersey City 
Stock-Yards to see if I could work my way over on a 
cattle-boat. Scores of other young men sought the 
same job, and the shippers had all the men they could 
use. But I kept after the head man, who flatly refused 
an audience with me. When I went into his office in 
the big shed he went out, but I followed him, and when 
he stopped to talk to a shipper or employe I was 
ready to be next. After many skirmishes on my 
return to the office I caught the shipper at bay, 
when I poured my plea at him broadcast, telling 
him I had ridden my bike from Polo, starting penni- 
less. 

"Around the world without a cent !" he exclaimed. 
But remembering that he had signed up for a full set 
of men he snapped, "We don't need you!" and fled. 
Once more I approached him, expecting him to show 
fight. 

"We are turning men away every minute," he 
replied. 

Sick at heart, I crossed back on the ferry. That 
night I met a young fellow who was walking around 
the world. He was worse off than I, for he had no 
wheel to carry him, but he had almost ten dollars, the 
fee each cattleman had to pay for the privilege of 
crossing, while I had still less. The next morning I 
took him with me to try once more for passage — this 
time for both of us. When the shipper saw me he ap- 
peared to be still more busy. I waited until he had 
finished, when I asked the same question of the day 
previous. 

' ' I can 't use you ! " he said. 

As there seemed to be no other possible way to 
get across the "pond" at this time, his words puck- 
ered my face with painful despair. Yet I did not give 
up. Soon the boss started for the cattle-pens to select 
the best prime steers for the fine big "Minnehaha," 
the finest liner carrying cattle afloat, which was to 



WITHOUT A CENT 

sail for London on the following morning. I followed 
him. He had trouble in driving them. 

That was my opportunity. Leaping the eight-foot 
fence, I landed right in the midst of a lot of big Short- 
horns as the men prodded them with long spiked 
poles from the fence. I waved my arms and yelled, 
grabbed one by the tail and another by the horn, the 
whole herd moving out of the open gate. I was adjust- 
ing my disordered garments when the boss came up 
smiling, saying : 

"You seem to understand cattle, all right." Then 
coming closer he said : "Around the world without a 
cent! That's the way to do it." Then in a lower 
voice: "I am getting ten dollars apiece for such as 
you working across, but if you'll come around when 
the boat sails I will ship you free and pay you $2.50 
besides, which will get your wheel across. ' ' 

But I had won his favor so completely I dared to 
ask for my friend, now coming up, who was also 
accepted at half the fee — five dollars — when with the 
two preliminary tickets we returned to our hotel, 
checked out, had a midnight supper of hot tamales 
and raw oysters, and roamed the streets among the 
white lights, glad beyond measure that we were to go 
aboard the beautiful liner at daylight. 

Back at the yards at three, we were none too soon, 
for the cattle had already been loaded and the vessel 
was making ready to steam to the New York side for 
the two-legged passengers. We went aboard and 
began at once to tie up the six hundred steers to long 
troughs. 

When we came up on deck passengers were hurry- 
ing to and fro, looking after their baggage and saying 
good-byes. The gang-plank was drawn in, whistles 
and bells sounded, and the great ship began to move. 
No one in the crowd on shore or on ship knew us, but 
of all the passengers aboard the "Minnehaha" that 
morning we were the proudest. 

A little work took us down with the cattle once 

19 



AROUND THE WORLD 

more, and when we came up we were passing under 
the Statue of Liberty, with the sky-scrapers dropping 
into the bay behind us. We were well out in the salt 
water when the gong sounded our first breakfast on 
ship. Among the score of cattle-boys were two 
students from Cornell, a graduate of Princeton, a 
preacher's son from Kansas and two Jews. Fried 
ham and potatoes, tea and toast made our breakfast. 
Then we were divided into several sets to feed and 
water the cows. Water for them was carried by pipes 
from the ship 's hold, with faucets directly in front of 
the cows. My duty was to open and close one of the 
cocks as pails were held there by my set of men and 
then borne to the animals. We then fed them hay, 
and at nine gave them a little shelled corn. 

Dinner was served at 12 :30. By maritime law each 
of us were to receive three pounds of beef daily, with 
the bill of fare posted on the ship for us to read. A 
whole quarter of roast-beef was given us right out of 
the kitchen oven, and we did our own carving, cutting 
as big a slice as we thought we could eat. Vegetable 
soup, boiled spuds, bread and oleo, with tea, com- 
pleted our first dinner. Several times during the voy- 
age of ten days we had roast turkey and goose, and 
on the two Sundays aboard our dessert was a half 
pound of plum-pudding. Yet we were always raven- 
ously hungry. Our beds had been provided down 
below in what we call the steerage on other ships, but 
we seldom slept down there. We built rude block- 
houses with bales of hay, leaving only a low door at 
one side. Every day these were destroyed by being 
fed to the cows, necessitating our hoisting up from 
the hold another supply and the building of new huts 
at night. Two of the boys were in the habit of select- 
ing their location in the most favorable part of the 
deck. One night without warning some of the fellows 
climbed up on their block-house and dropped the top- 
most bales down upon them. This floating barn, with 
its six hundred cows, a lot of horses, sheep and 

20 



ATLANTIC OCEAN 




A Cattleman — "Minnehaha' 




Promenade Deck 



ENGLAND 




Henry Spickler's First English Audience 




His Home on the Farm 



WITHOUT A CENT 

poultry, was heated by steam at a temperature of 
seventy degrees, for even in the summer time it is 
cold at sea in northern latitudes, requiring heavy 
woolens to be at all comfortable. 

Off the Newfoundland banks we had a storm that 
for three days rocked us as in a crazy cradle, the 
waves breaking over the top of the ship and flooding 
the upper decks so that the hatchways and other 
openings had to be closed tight. Some of the men fell 
seasick, the cows also, and some of them lay and 
groaned day and night, arising, however, to eat four 
meals a day. 

Time is announced not by clocks but by "taps" or 
'"bells." A higher officer, usually on the "bridge," 
steps amidships and taps a bell much like a farmer's 
dinner-bell, which is at once followed by the sailor "on 
watch," who taps another and larger bell more vig- 
orously in the "basket" or "nest" on the foremast — 
at noon eight taps, at 12 :30 one tap or bell, at 1 two 
bells, at 1 :30 three bells and so on in sets of eight, with 
special taps for the "watch" and for announcing the 
sight of vessels at sea. Eight bells in the afternoon is 
four o'clock; eight bells in the evening is eight 
o 'clock. 

On the tenth day we caught sight of land — the 
historic cliffs of Dover, that rose higher and higher as 
we neared the southern coast of England. We passed 
the little Jersey Island, from which comes that fine 
class of cows, and from the higher decks we could see 
France as our ship was towed up the Thames. 

IN MERRY ENGLAND 

We landed at Tilbury Dock, where Henry VIII built 
a block-house, and where his daughter Elizabeth sum- 
moned the manhood of England to beat off the 
Spanish Armada. No comparison could be made 
between the little sailing sloops of those days and our 
own proud "Minnehaha." 

It was so good to touch the ground again. The 

23 



AROUND THE WORLD 

English air was like a cold drink of lemonade, and 
it was the first day of June. The roads were muddy, 
and as my tires needed attention, my chum and I 
took the train for the City of London ! We entered 
this train at the side, — a door for every two seats 
called compartments, where eight or ten could ride 
comfortably, in private. We were the only ones in 
our section, so we could lie down on the long, 
cushioned seats and sleep if we liked. 

Your first surprise abroad is the absence of wooden 
structures, nearly everything being of brick or stone. 
The chimneys are at the extreme end, and usually 
end in a tile or two. Every spot in London has been 
marched over by countless events that made history. 
Here a battle against a tyrant king, there a bishop 
burned, or a witch sentenced. You are knee-deep 
in Macaulay. I sat in Gladstone's chair in Parlia- 
ment, hung my hat where the lords hung theirs, 
smelled at the sweet flowers on the bust of Long- 
fellow and Tennyson in Westminster Abbey, became 
confused as I picked up a little stone in the British 
Museum on which was inscribed a bill for a suit of 
clothes made in Egypt two thousand years before 
Abraham was born, wrinkled my face at a mummy 
of the Pharaoh, and rode to the Art Gallery, Spur- 
geon's Tabernacle, and the Tower. 

You never get lost in London: you always come 
back to the place where you started, whether you 
want to, or not. One morning I made six different 
attempts to get away from my ABC Breakfast House 
to ride to Ludgate Circus, a chief business center, 
for my mail at Thomas Cooke & Sons. But as the 
streets all ran in curves, crossing and recrossing one 
another, I came back every time to the place of be- 
gining. But London is so charming, you'd be willing 
to come back sixty times. The streets are Chinese 
puzzles, but listen to their names : One day I rode 
through Threadneedle Street, into Petticoat Lane, 
past the Boar's Head Saloon, to Helen's Place, down 

24 



WITHOUT A CENT 

Puddin' Lane, to Marlybone, Mincing Lane and Bil- 
lingsgate. 

Refreshing my memory with Crusoe I stood by the 
grave of Daniel De Foe. In another spot, by the tomb 
of Mrs. "Wesley, on the plain slab of which I read : 
"Here lies the body of Mrs. "Wesley, the mother of 
seventeen children, of whom the most famous were 
John and Charles. ' ' I went through Eastcheap where 
Falstaff and Prince Hal rollicked, and rode around 
to see some of the sixteen hundred churches, where 
worship was more formal and pious but not so 
natural and inspiring as that of our own. You must 
turn to the left in London, and not to the right, as 
we do in the United States, in passing vehicles. Some- 
times I ran into them because of the difficulty I had 
of changing my habit from right to left. At one time 
I collided with a cyclist, because of this, breaking 
the backbone of my wheel. 

That which caused me to look the most was the 
London girl. Three types repelled, amused or at- 
tracted me. One was masculine in manner, outdoing 
the worst in American coarseness. The second was 
very poor, anemic, ignorant, and with senseless blank 
stare. The third, — well-dressed, neat, modest and 
lovable, she drew the attention away from the fussily- 
robed woman by her plain white dress. Her glance 
of sweet modesty, wholesome love, quiet reserve, calm 
thought, purity of soul, good sense, and fair-cheeked 
health, was an inspiration. The natural gift of the 
Isle is wonderful hair which on young girls flows 
loose over the shoulders. It is very light in color, 
and yet it has the power of playing other colors, par- 
ticularly that color that suggests red and brown, 
or brown and red, in such a way that you can hardly 
hold yourself back from hugging the owner. At 
certain angles you see a tinge of flame in it suggest- 
ing the orange in the rainbow. It is nowhere else 
in all the world but right there where you see it, — 
in that waving, moving, changing mass of carefully 

25 



AROUND THE WORLD 

brushed, fluffy, silken armful of girlish hair that 
graces the fair complexion of these girls when of the 
age at which they dream of St. Agnes. Her pink 
cheeks are surmounted by a color not at all red, but 
which by some strange mixing of colors, become as 
indescribable as unsurpassed. The face just be- 
tween the cheekbone and eye seems to undulate with 
a witchery of hues that change with the passing 
moods. In laughter, and at play, this facial beauty 
is worth the price of a ticket, of which I had many 
a free one. The eye is mild, soft as a gazelle's and 
inclined to be very blue — blue as the sea — and just 
as wonderful in mystery. The forehead is well- 
proportioned, the chin small, rather retreating, 
round and delicately poised. The nose is straight, or 
slightly beaked, the mouth with the full rich curve 
of the Venus bow. If the Chicago girl is the 
"I Will!" of American progress, the London girl is 
the "I Would, but I Can't" of feminine winsomeness. 
It is harder for her to find a husband than for our 
American girls, for wars have taken the men. This 
fact makes her all the more studious of her winning 
points, and more painstaking in cultivating her 
personality. 

For twelve cents a day I had stopped at Lord 
Rowton's Hotel for workingmen, where I had every 
convenience — gas ranges for cooking, hot and cold 
showers, laundry, dining room and tables, with cook- 
ing utensils, and a good, clean bed in a nice room, 
thrown in. But when my cash dwindled to nine 
pennies I mounted my wheel. Down toward the 
Thames, then under the river it went, and out of the 
great tunnel into a blooming country scene, on a 
sunny day in June. In America you are ' ' knee-deep ' ' 
in June. In England you are up-to-the-neck. The 
country roads were even more crooked than the city 
streets, and I couldn 't always tell whether I was com- 
ing, or going. The lanes down which I was riding 
were taking me into a verdant circlet of summer 

26 



WITHOUT A CENT 

glory. Every hill revealed quaint and startling 
beauty, the natural charm of the hedge-rows, the little 
fresh fields, the orchards and gardens, all teemed with 
wonders, dense in vegetation and set off by groups of 
hoary old trees of superb foliage. On and on my 
wheel carried me until after a slow hour of riding, it 
ran into the Market Square of a town by the name 
of Woolwich, ten miles from London Bridge. My 
chum started at the same time, in the same direction, 
and got out of a Bus stopping in the Square a few 
minutes after I dismounted. Workers in the Arsenal, 
back from their lunch, were standing about, await- 
ing the opening of the gates to go to work. I bor- 
rowed an orange box from one of the stalls, and stood 
in silence, as hundreds of men, and then thousands, 
gathered around my wheel over which I had spread 
the "Stars and Stripes" and the Union Jack. I took 
a text : "I call upon you young men, because you are 
strong, ' ' and began my first speech abroad. My heart 
was in my throat, for I had a great audience in size 
and material. South Africa veterans were there, 
soldiers and sailors from Egypt, men on furlough 
from India, plain-clothes men and police, citizens and 
officers. Intelligent and critical, sympathetic and 
interested, they challenged my confidence to make 
good. I spoke very rapidly as the men crowded close 
and then closer, the stalls emptying of purchasers. 
Then the whistle blew — twenty minutes after I began 
to talk — and the men surged toward the Arsenal, 
dropping their free-will offering. The first coin was 
a half-penny. It looked like a dollar. It gave me 
more real joy than the fee paid me since on the lyceum 
platform. In all I got nearly a dollar in English 
values. 

Then we rented a back room in ' ' Nightingale Vale ' ' 
that looked out on a vine-clad dell where every morn- 
ing the birds held a musical festival. Our meals were 
sometimes brought up from the basement by the good 
land-lady, and at other times we cooked them on the 

27 



AROUND THE WORLD 

gas-range. During the week I broke one of my pedals, 
which could not be replaced, so I had to pedal along 
with one leg, letting the other dangle over the side. 
The paper soles of my American shoes were about 
all gone, and my pocket was about empty. Rent was 
due. No food was in sight or smell. My chum became 
discouraged. In my little bible I read to him: "If 
you faint in the day of adversity, your strength is 
small," and "Trust in the Lord, and do good, so shall 
you dwell in the land, and surely you shall be fed." 
Then it rained nearly every day. But the less my 
chum had, the more he spent. He brought home big 
jars of jam. I urged him to economize until we had 
more money, but he said he was going to have enough 
to eat no matter what happened. But he did not seem 
to realize that we might have the things we needed, 
if we but went at it right to get them. I was happier 
here when starving than I possibly could have been 
back in the United States with plenty, but with no 
useful future in anticipation. To accomplish my tour 
was the whole thing with me, and to be hungry some- 
times, did not lessen, but only accentuated my desire 
to accomplish it. 

One morning I rode my one-legged bike into 
London where I found the needed pedal at the Ameri- 
can Supply Company, but when I opened my purse 
from habit I found it empty. "That's all right," 
they said, "we are glad to help you." Then I went 
for my mail. A letter invited me to a social, after 
which I was to be a guest in an English home over 
night. Another letter invited me to a big banquet of 
the day before. It came from one of the best known 
men in Britain, to the most important gathering of 
the year, where I might have spoken to twenty 
thousand people, which would have been an unlimited 
Letter of Credit in the British Isles. But it was past. 
But I went to the social that night, in the heart of 
London, and then home with a friend I had met in 
Rochester. I slept in an old English bed in one of 

28 



WITHOUT A CENT 

London's old houses, taking breakfast with a real 
old English family at eight. The Londoners did not 
open their shops until nine. 

I rode back to the Vale for one more night, then 
rode into the country, still farther, while my chum 
returned to the City. In a few minutes I was among 
the farms. In the deep hollow on my right was a 
brick-yard, and on my left, rising high and dark on 
the green hills, a dense bit of forest that cut the 
sky-line at the edge of which stood a little gray-stone 
church with high stone-steeple, and graveyard be- 
hind it. The road swung in graceful curves over 
bossy hills dipping violently into pretty valleys with 
green fields and soft meadows on both sides. Hun- 
dreds of laborers were at work on one of these 
farms — men, women and children, most of them 
picking berries. After walking up a very steep hill 
that swung in a half circle about a meadow, I came 
to a second little church with greatly weathered tomb- 
stones. A dozen men were making hay in the meadow 
on my right. I asked if I might get a job there. 

"Aye! Aye! Sir, h'l suppose, sir, but the boss e's 
away," answered one. I rode to the barnyard and 
waited. The house nestled in a high-walled garden, 
on the open side of which, was a little pond for ducks. 

"Go out with that man into the hay when the 
whistle blows, ' ' was all the foreman said. When the 
whistle at the brick kiln blew, the men filed down the 
road and into the meadow where I joined them, turn- 
ing the grass over to dry, each of us on a row. 

"Urry h'up there !" called out the man behind me, 
but I could not go any faster than the man ahead of 
me went, which I was doing with almost no effort, for 
the work was very light. An American is made of 
different stuff from the average "bloke" in England, 
so they soon called to me not to work so fast. 

"We want this job to last, man, 'ang h'on slow 
like." 

Several times during the afternoon the farmer 

29 



AROUND THE WORLD 

drove into the field in his gig on his rounds of in- 
spection, looking sharply at me. He wondered why 
I would make such a tour, working so hard at com- 
mon labor, if I had an education and lived in 
America. At his approach the men worked faster, 
and at his leaving they slowed down, then leaned on 
their forks and finally when he passed out of sight 
to another part of the thousand-acre farm, they threw 
themselves upon the grass and played cards or 
smoked. There was no sympathy or personal touch 
between the farmer and his men, and the longer I 
worked there the more I felt like doing just what 
they were doing — "killing time." The weather was 
so cool many of the men wore woolen caps and woolen 
undershirts, while one man actually brought his over- 
coat along to the field and pitched hay one afternoon 
while wearing it. Yet they said : " ' Ow bloody 'ot 
h'ith'is!" 

When they were thirsty one of the men asked me 
to bring the jug. It held beer, which I refused to 
drink. 

"Oh, well, we won't persuade you," said a gypsy 
of the gang. "You'll get a shilling more for not 
drinking. The foreman doesn't like us to drink." 
And I did get twenty-five cents more per day. 

At five-thirty, when the whistle blew for us to quit 
work, the men were lying down in a far corner of 
the field, one fellow asleep. Not hearing the shrill 
whistle nearby, he slept on. 

"Leave off!" shouted one of the fellows, and the 
rest of us jumped to our feet and started for the 
house. 

That evening I went to the house and asked the 
farmer boss where I was to get my supper. He 
seemed perplexed, not knowing what to answer me. 

As I had nothing to eat, he let me sit on his door- 
step while the girl brought a plate of strawberries 
and milk, with several thin slices of bread. For the 
first time in my life I slept in a stable. 

30 



WITHOUT A CENT 

At three I was awakened to join the merry straw- 
berry pickers before going to work on the farm at 
the regular hour. Down the dark road I followed a 
lot of men, women and children into the fragrant 
fields, the dew like a river, our number joined every- 
where by more pickers. When the forty acres of 
berries were reached, the first dawn had come, and 
with it the glory of England's rural life that burst 
into my soul by its overpowering revelation of fresh 
beauty and tranquillity. In spots a purple graying 
mist hung over the fields this June morning, such as 
I had never seen before, with an army of sweet-toned 
birds — strange birds — everywhere about us, that 
proved to be skylarks. The berries were the largest, 
juiciest and best I had ever seen, and as the sale of 
them in London was limited, the foreman told me I 
could eat as many as I liked while I picked. A peck 
measure was given me, and for every peck gathered 
before breakfast I was to receive an extra pence. 
The first morning I did not try to keep up to these 
experienced pickers, but ate berries, and watched the 
larks as they hovered near the bushes like humming- 
birds, singing and twittering with quick, joyful notes, 
then with wings whirring faster and faster, they be- 
gan to ascend, straight up, — not in spirals or circles, — 
but straight us as a ball goes straight, singing with 
more rapturous melody, until they passed out of 
sight; descending, after a time, in much the same 
way as they went up, — straight down. 

When the lark is poising over 

Big, red berries, bending low, 
And the pickers fill their baskets 

With the finest fruit that grow, 
Then the largest, sweetest berries 

Melt and fill my yawning mouth, 
With their juicy, crushing sweetness, 

Melting in my hungry mouth. 



AROUND THE WORLD 

From the foul soil comes this berry, 

Perfect, pure and full of charm. 
From the grit and sandy earth-loam 

Springs the best thing on the farm. 
If I 'd turn by transmigration 

Into other form of life, 
I would be a big strawberry, 

Just to live the sweetest life. 

By the third morning I had caught the knack of 
doing it. When I took the last row with the two hun- 
dred pickers on my left, each on a row, most of them 
with many years of experience in this work, and 
many of them expert pickers, some one yelled : 

"Look h'at that H 'American h'in 'is bicycle suit!" 

I drew myself together in one great force. Left- 
tackle scrimmages on Stagg Field came before me. 
Why not win this race ? I knew that not one of the 
two hundred had as much energy to let loose, or more 
trained efficiency. Lightly, but like lightning, I 
touched, every finger alert, both eyes on the bushes 
ahead of me. Like whirlwind through the leaves, 
the berries dropped into my hand and out again into 
the basket. The few in the far lead sensed my object 
and picked faster. Others behind them did the same. 
Still others, falling behind, stopped picking, as they 
watched the race, knowing they were already out 
of it. As I moved forward, still others fell behind, 
until I had moved up ahead of all except a score of 
women and one man. Then a bunch of these slowly 
lost ground as I gained foot after foot, passing two 
girls on rows next to mine, who finding themselves 
losing beyond recovery, sat down and ate berries 
out of their baskets, as they watched the race, saying 
to me, "You can't catch Mary Liz." 

These strawberry plants were much bigger, fuller 
and taller than those I had cultivated in Illinois, the 
light, sandy soil and humid atmosphere being better 

32 



ENGLAND 




Berry Pickers 





■ ■ 

m . '..■ ..■ ..... 




Two Big Horses to Little Cart 



ENGLAND 




Cricket Game 




The Author in English Hayfield 



WITHOUT A CENT 

adapted to their fuller perfection. Faster, and faster, 
and yet faster, I went, the berries pouring, in steady 
stream through my hands, and rounding out the 
basket. Back at the wagons the foreman received 
my berries, gave me my tin check, and a new basket. 
As I ran back to my row, the "leading man" was 
holding his back with both hands. Five women were 
ahead of him and me, picking like mad. I geared 
myself to the third speed. One by one I passed ahead 
of the women just behind the man, and I evened up 
to him, to leave him in the lurch when he went back to 
check in his berries. 

One hundred and ninety-five pickers were behind 
me. That was something. Five only were ahead, 
but these five had to be overtaken, and then 
passed. Soon one of these fell behind. Only four 
were ahead of me now. In a few minutes I had passed 
one of these. Only three were ahead. Full day had 
now begun to dawn as the sun raised out of Kentish 
hills on our left. If I could but gear myself to a 
fourth speed, the race would be brief. I ate no 
berries. I heard no skylarks. Two more dropped 
back. Only one remained, — Mary Liz, known for her 
speed in all that country, and never known to have 
been beaten in a berry race. Her row was close to 
mine. I could hear her breathe. From now on I took 
no time to breathe. The race lay now between two 
of us, an English woman, and an American man. 
Then my teeth went tight like a vise, as I went to the 
"Nth" speed. My mind was in every part of my 
body. I no longer looked for berries, but just 
imagined them there, and took them, pinching them 
off just right at the first grab, reaching for others, 
and still others, as I had mapped them out ahead, 
avoiding the least unnecessary movement, and econ- 
omizing every atom of energy. Every one of the one 
hundred and ninety-nine watched the race, most of 
them standing, — every one except two or three who 
vainly sought to regain what they had lost, — from 

35 



AROUND THE WORLD 

ten to thirty feet. Chance misses in the hills might 
bring them up again, but the Englishman, in planting 
berries as in doing anything else, did it right. Every 
row was much the same. 

My third basket was filling. I couldn't move ahead 
fast enough. I hadn't taken a full breath for ten 
minutes. Soon we were neck to neck. With less 
movement and more berries, I put every ounce of 
strength and skill into my picking. Confident, too, 
that I was going to win, my added speed set me 
ahead of her, which made her only the more deter- 
mined not to let me win as she tore the plants, and 
moved up with amazing speed. She even threatened 
to pass me, and unless she had caught her second 
wind, as I had done, I was still safe. The race would 
be over in a few seconds more. Many of the pickers 
had come up to that part of the field where we were 
picking so as to witness the ' ' finals. ' ' The last twenty 
feet I made without taking a breath. When I straight- 
ened up for a full breath, Mary Liz was yards behind 
me, and her basket was far from filled, while mine 
was running over. 

For a whole week I drank no water, but ate straw- 
berries instead — about two gallons every day. Dur- 
ing the week I spent but six cents for food, mostly 
bread, — a two-pound loaf for four cents, or two 
English pennies. Volunteer potatoes, onions and 
other vegetables, were found on the farm, which 
with the skimmed milk brought me by the maid, 
furnished me a good table at no expense. At the end 
of the first week I was paid a pound in gold, and some 
silver pieces of one, two, and four shillings each. 

I cooked my meals on a rude fireplace of bricks 
and sheetiron and although I built this stove right 
near a strawstack and a building covered with thatch, 
because of the almost constant dampness there was no 
danger of either catching fire. At this time I wrote 
my chum in London, telling him of my good luck, 
when he came out, his shoes worn to shreds. He had 

36 



WITHOUT A CENT 

pawned his valise, extra clothes and watch, and had 
spent the last penny. That night we cooked supper 
around a roaring fire, in a drizzly rain. "I wish I 
were back in Kansas in the old rocking-chair," he 
said. The next morning he went with me to the 
berry patch to ' ' fill up, ' ' and to earn his first English 
money on a farm. 

I had changed my headquarters from the stable to 
the granary, just above the chicken house, reaching 
it by an outer stair. The first bin on my right I made 
into a dining-room and pantry. My cellar was above 
my head, where suspended from the ceiling, I kept 
the bread and other food. The next bin was my 
bed-room. A third held my bike, and a fourth was 
my spare-room. My friend now took this room as his 
own, and soon saved up enough money to reclaim his 
pawned goods. 

We often went to market. In the butchers' stalls 
little cards were tacked to hunks of bacon, as ''Nice 
and Mild, " " Prime Breakfast, " " Try Me. ' ' To read 
them made us hungry for the juicy, English bacon. 
From the late strawberries and raspberries I made 
jam, some of which I sold to workers on the farm. 
In the meadow I gathered three kinds of mushrooms 
which did more to supply my table during August 
and September, than anything else. Progs also were 
abundant. 

After the berries came the cherries. The boss se- 
lected me to guard the trees from vandals, for as they 
were of the large, sweet variety, workers in the fields 
and strangers passing on the road looked upon them 
with covetous eyes. The choicest of these I picked 
for him, eating what I liked, and preserving such of 
the poorer ones as he discarded, for myself. But my 
chum soon wearied of the work and returned to Lon- 
don, and with the aid of the U. S. Consul, caught a 
boat for New York. As he was without a college 
education or a substitute in mental training, he found 
little to interest him. 

37 



AROUND THE WORLD 

One rainy night a little boy of one of the foremen 
dropped in and dined with me. The rain fell steadily, 
and bedtime found him still with me. Not suspecting 
any trouble, I let him stay. But his father had come 
home intoxicated, and began to beat up his household, 
this boy coming to me. I had fallen asleep when I 
was awakened by unearthly yells and curses : 

"H'open that bloomin' door, you H 'American!" 
roared the drunken bully of a father. Half awake, I 
staggered to the door, upsetting a big pail of water 
over my feet. 

"H'if you don't d n soon h'op — h'op — h'en — 

that door, h 'I '11 show you ! H 'is my lad up there ? ' ' 

' ' Yes, there 's a boy up here. ' ' 

He was coming up the stair, an old rotten one, and 
he didn't know that two of the steps near the top 
were weak and rotten. When he reached this place 
he dropped through it to the pile of tile and rubbish 
below, jabbering oaths as black as the night. The kid 
was now crying as if his heart would break. 

"That's my dad," he choked; "Vll kill both 
h'of us." 

I was sharing the same opinion, as the third time 
the mad father climbed the broken stair, and three 
times fell through it, each tumble increasing his fury. 
Knowing that my trying to keep his boy from him 
would only add to his insane rage, I helped him to get 
out and down over the rickety steps, to his father, 
who at once fell to beating him. 

During most of the time I earned a dollar, or four 
shillings, a day. For pitching oats with a big Irish- 
man I was paid $2.50 a day. For cleaning ditches I 
was given the entire job at four cents a rod, cleaning 
easily a hundred rods a day. 

One afternoon as I chopped into a heavy bunch of 
grass my knife struck something like a solid cushion. 
I had mowed right into a nest of hedgehogs 
or porcupines, the first I ever found in their natural 
haunts. I could hear the wee cries of the little ones, 

38 



WITHOUT A CENT 

which at first I supposed to be made by kittens or 
hares. In the nest were little yellowish balls, and 
over them, for protection, was mother hedgehog, 
rolled up in a ball, herself, with the sharp spines or 
needles sticking out savagely in every direction, some 
of them pricking the little babies and making them 
cry, for while they, too, had rolled up, their skins were 
so much thinner, and their needles so much shorter, 
they had poor protection from the long, sharp spines 
of the mother; and each of them, having rolled up 
like a round ball in the nest when I struck it with 
my cutting-knife, were torturing each other with 
these same spines. The mother's armament was suf- 
ficient to withstand the attack of any dog, and its 
safety was in lying still, rolled up like a ball. When 
I tickled its back with a stick, it slightly unrolled, 
peeped out with its little head from among the sharp, 
gray quills, showed for an instant four little legs 
too small to run fast, or to fight an enemy, then rolled 
up again, and was to all appearances as dead as a 
rock. 

Another discovery was the English bumble-bee. At 
first they gave me great fright by their buzzing 
warning, and I would climb out of the ditch and 
run, expecting them to pour after me. The noise they 
made as they rolled out like yellow-jackets, was ter- 
rifying, but on returning to the spot I found that 
these bees never left the nest, but just rolled around 
on top of the ground fanning the air. At last I ven- 
tured right up to them. Then I got down right over 
them, expecting surely to be attacked by them. I 
stirred up the nest. I rolled them over. The bees 
were only bluffing. At other times some of them cir- 
cled about me a moment, then went whirring over the 
fields. 

Although their honey was mine to leave or take, 
I always left it and the nest unmolested, for one of 
the crimes in America is to allow unthinking boys 
and men to kill off our American bumble-bee, without 

39 



AROUND THE WORLD 

which there could be no red clover, for only the long 
tongue of the bumble-bee can reach down to the bot- 
tom of the honey- well in the red clover, the doing of 
which fertilizes the blossom. 

Another insect I found that was harmless looking 
but frightfully dangerous, — the earwig, — looking 
much like a cricket, having a long, reddish body, with 
short legs, that prevent it from jumping like our 
American cricket. This insect crawls into the human 
ear and from there works its way into the inner ear, 
and from there up into the brain. Farm-hands, and 
others, frequently suffer a terrible death from them. 
We always took care when lying down in the straw, 
or upon the ground, to see that no earwigs were there, 
and when we found them we killed them on the spot. 
Once in the ear, it holds on like a leech, and can be re- 
moved only with difficulty by a skillful doctor. If 
left there it continues boring into the inner ear, 
thence to the head, when the victim goes mad, unable 
to endure the awful torture, and dying in the utmost 
agony, when the earwig reaches the brain. To be safe 
from them we were careful to wear cotton-batting in 
our ear-lobes, to buy which I inquired of a young girl 
at the notion store. To my surprise, she handed me 
a spool of thread. I explained that it was not thread 
that I wanted, but cotton, to put into my ears to keep 
out the earwig. Her mother then came to the rescue. 
Cotton, over Britain, means thread. 

Many common things had new names to me. The 
accent of vowels and syllables, particularly by the un- 
lettered, is also different, and unless the clerk be well 
educated, you can scarcely converse with him or her. 
Day is pronounced dai; gray, grai; "H'l was Mai- 
Queen, ' ' said a pretty girl at the Sunday School, when 
I asked her if that custom was still kept up in Eng- 
land. Her "May" sounded to me like "my." 

But the names of things were still worse. A horse- 
blanket was a rug; a wagon on a farm was a van; a 
cultivator was a brake ; a railway coach was a car- 

40 



WITHOUT A CENT 

riage ; a freight train was a goods-train ; a man told 
me he was a driver. "Horses?" I asked. "No!" he 
answered, offended, "locomotive!" Conductors 
were guards. Locomotives had no big head-light, 
but only one or two small lights on each side of the 
front of the boiler. There were no "cow-catchers" 
on these locomotives. A teacher was a school-keeper ; 
a dairyman was a cow-keeper; a bakery was a bake- 
house ; a hardware store was an ironmongers ; a dry 
goods store was a drapers; a notion store was a 
haberdashery ; a balky horse gibes, and whether you 
want either oats or corn fed him, it is always corn. 
The boy who plays truant "skips the dollie." 
' ' Washing and Mangling ' ' means Washing and Iron- 
ing ; condensed milk comes in tins, not cans ; it is five 
pence the person, not five cents each. Butter may be 
bought at the store, salted or unsalted, and at the 
same price. Sunday School pupils were flogged just 
as were pupils of the public school. 

I went to the dentist to have a tooth filled. The 
sign over his door read: "Stopping and Scaling," 
which meant Filling and Cleaning. I had a tooth 
stopped, and all of them scaled, but for the last time 
by an English dentist. I went to the barber to have 
my hair cut. A man and a boy were running three 
chairs, — ordinary, straight-backed chairs. He cut the 
long locks from the right side, then went back to the 
man he was shaving, ignoring me. After he took the 
whiskers off the left side of the victim's face he came 
back to me, while the boy lathered the other side of 
the man's face. Then he took off the right whisker, 
and returned to me. The third time he came back to 
me I was asleep. 

On the day the king was to be crowned I rode into 
London at five in the morning and secured a position 
in Trafalgar Square where I was very near the King 
and Queen when they passed in their Royal Coach, at 
three in the afternoon, not one of the tremendous 
crowd daring to give up his space during all that 

41 



AROUND THE WORLD 

time. At the King's Dinner given shortly after, I 
sat on the same platform with the Lord Mayor of 
London and his beautiful wife, shaking hands with 
them and chatting with them. "You are to see Eng- 
land from your wheel ? ' ' asked his wife in her sweet- 
est manner. When they left they both shook hands 
with me, again, and I can feel the pressure of the 
little gloved hand to this day. Her winsome sym- 
pathy did much to help me on my tour from that day 
on. For the Lord Mayor of London is an important 
functionary greater in authority than the King him- 
self. Costumed in his official robes of faded orange 
bordered with heavy fur, and encircled by a heavy 
chain of gold over the shoulders and back, a mace 
carried before him by a courtier and other attendants 
of the Court, and with him the great Bishop of Lon- 
don with richly gowned wife near him was a picture 
of modern human power united with all the royal 
romance of mediaeval history. 

On the last day of September I rode for Canterbury 
over the path of the Chaucer pilgrims, the road and 
lanes like meandering boulevards, where a twenty- 
mile spin before breakfast was a luxury. Great 
spreading oaks and lindens grew in the pretty fields. 
Up-hill and down, winding around dreamy hawthorne 
hedge, over old stone bridges, through deep, fragrant 
woods, skirting meadows where yeomen pitched 
hay on queer old wagons, and the kiddies played, with 
history hovering like the London fog, over every bit 
of ground I rode over, where some hero died for hu- 
man rights, a king was defeated, an army was routed. 

Six miles out, I wheeled up to the "Three Squirrels 
f nn, ' ' on Saturday night, where in the olden days the 
Pilgrims stopped, — as I did. With no parlor or of- 
fice, the bar-room is the meeting place of guests. Un- 
like anything in America, there is a cordial hospitality 
in these old inns. You are made a deal of, and you 
become quickly acquainted with everybody. But to 
stop at THIS inn, haunted by the shades of gray 

42 



WITHOUT A CENT 

old Chaucer Tales, — to snuff your candle in a room 
occupied by these old worthies ! 

A woman illumines the forecasting shadows of 
every ambitious man. The orator rises to the sublime 
peaks of majestic utterance on the wings of fancy 
for some sweetheart. The musician swings wide the 
gate of song by the key of love. So I saw Canterbury, 
inspired by an old lady teacher in Shurtleff Col- 
lege. 

Thousands of worshippers had already gathered in 
the great Nave, at the upper end of which I was 
seated, on an elevated portion on a scarlet carpet, 
with others, who seemed to have been favored. My 
bicycle suit attracted too many eyes for my own com- 
fort, until the unexpected happened. A man, with 
his wife, sat next to me, at the very edge of the flight 
of wide-step stairs. Suddenly, with a movement and 
noise that was startling, the leg of his chair slipped 
off the edge of the step, when both man and chair 
toppled over into the lap of an elderly lady with 
goggled eyes. From here he dropped on his knees 
in front of her, in a beseeching attitude too ridiculous 
to prevent laughter in that sacred place. Flinging his 
arms wildly to regain his balance, he took a football 
dive into Goggles' ample lap. His ludicrous sprawl 
was an easy mark for two-thirds of the great congre- 
gation, and a target for the assistant ministers, sev- 
eral deans and priors, two canons, and the great Met- 
ropolitan Archbishop himself on a salary of five 
hundred thousand dollars a year, all of whom in- 
dulged a look of humor. To make it worse, every- 
thing was at a standstill when the gentleman fell. 
Helped back into his chair by his wife and me, she 
soothed him by whispering into his ear so that many 
could hear her that he ought to know better than to 
sit so near the step. Relieved thus of much of his em- 
barrassment, the service in the High Church of Eng- 
land was resumed by the speaker upon the theme : 
"The Need for More Definite Anticipation of 

43 



AROUND THE WORLD 

Heaven." He said that the present must be fully 
developed if the future was to be fully realized ; that 
Heaven was a going on, a realization of an ideal, a 
resurrection of long-buried hopes. After the col- 
lection bags passed the Archbishop raised his hands 
and pronounced upon us a one-hundred-thousand- 
pound benediction. 

That evening I addressed two open-air audiences 
of five hundred and a thousand each, taking up ' ' col- 
lections ' ' myself, and being interrupted by a cop who 
asked me if I were a Mormon from Salt Lake. 

Most of the Nave was built in the fourteenth cen- 
tury when Richard the Second sought to rule against 
his cousin, Henry the Fourth. To a height of three 
feet the walls are of the tenth century, with Norman 
designs in them. The pillars rest on square bases, 
crowned by square caps, with narrow, semi-circular 
windows. I saw the old coat of the Black Prince, and 
the spot where Thomas a Becket was murdered. In 
the upper nave I translated at sight, as any beginner 
in Latin might do, — "In eadem laetae Resurrectionis 
spe His requiescunt Catharina, filia Nicolai Symp- 
son," — took a last look at the wonderful thirteenth 
century glass windows, and rode to a monument to 
forty-one martyrs burned there for their faith, among 
the names being Henry Lawrence and Annie Albright. 
Over the old Roman road eight to twenty-five feet 
wide, I pumped up Gad's Hill where Falstaff played 
the brave ; went through Dickens' old home, sat in his 
armchair, and laid my hand on his desk where he 
wrote of "Nell." 

At midnight I was still riding on a good road north 
of London where the people I passed greeted me 
with friendly tone of voice. Refilling my lamp I 
rode till two, when it again went out, compelling me 
to walk rather than to break the law. Sleep began 
to overpower me. The towns were all shut up. Then 
rain began to fall. There is a vast difference in the 
states of mind before and after midnight, on a strange 

44 



WITHOUT A CENT 

road. Weariness is then a torture. The moaning 
wind cries in your ears with hideous shriek. 

At a big gate through a hedge-row I found an over- 
arching covert made at the junction of the road hedge 
and another, forming, with the addition of a thicket 
of hawthornes, a perfectly dry den, protected from 
the cold wind and dripping rain. For a second a 
match showed me the "lay" of the situation. A bet- 
ter bed could hardly be found out of doors. But 
evidences of other road men were there ahead of me, 
such as fresh newspapers and trampled grass, so I 
had no inclination to venture back. A tourist had 
been beaten and robbed of his wheel and money 
shortly before. Even now one or more of England's 
eighty thousand tramps might be resting in there, and 
might take my wheel as I slept. So I came out on 
the road again, sleepy as I was, preferring to be safe 
than sorry. 

The tea-pot is always a-boil in the Lodging-House, 
and the toasting fork hangs by the iron grate. Each 
guest buys his own food, and cooks it. This is the 
resort for the farmhand whose employment has been 
for the summer, the country tramp, or the native 
tourist, the strolling musician or acrobat, and the 
roving gypsy. Eating, drinking, talking, reading and 
sleeping, — besides seeing the local world, — is the pro- 
fession of most of these guests. They know every 
nook and corner of the British Isles and they discuss 
gravest questions of finance, politics, or authorship. 

Like an undulating ribbon of green-bordered silver, 
shaded by magnificent old trees that almost touch at 
the top, the road carries you in and out of disappoint- 
ing Cambridge, along the lazy creek they call a river, 
with little ferries bumping their nose into the other 
bank before it has cleared from the side you get on, 
boat-houses occupying every available dock space. 
For centuries master minds from many continents 
had enrolled inside those walls, in student and 
teacher, whose influence had returned in later gen- 



AROUND THE WORLD 

erations to bathe once more those gray-worn walls 
with time-honored devotion, and settle again upon 
outgoing graduates, — the distilled essence of Eng- 
land's literary glory. 

Guide-posts and a road map made easy riding to 
Bedford. I was in Bunyan's town before I knew it. 
The next day, Sunday, I walked to Elstow, a mile or 
so to the side. In my sightseeing I have the tourist's 
enthusiasm for historic spots, and my most exhilarat- 
ing moment is when I am about to see the long ex- 
pected sight. At the post office I was invited to take 
tea by the post-mistress — in John Bunyan's post- 
office ! She and some ladies were already at the 
table, so I sat with them and sipped black tea with 
lump sugar and yellow cream, and some very thin 
slices of bread spread thinly with butter. Bunyan ! 

I saw the original document for his arrest, the old 
jail doors and his chair. That night I preached in 
the old Moat Hall where years before, the Bunyanites 
had fled fiery mobs. This audience was the easiest to 
talk to of all my world assemblies, and at the close 
I stood by the pulpit while every one filed past me, 
shaking hands with me, a small coin in every hand, 
until my pocket was full of money ! 

I liked Oxford, but students here had either big 
bank accounts or scholarships. One of these milk- 
fed pets had so many scholarships he couldn't spend 
all the money, and had on hand at the end of the 
year, fifty pounds. The haze hanging over the build- 
ings, the heavy fogs, the frequent rains, the old build- 
ings themselves, seem to curb the modern idea of 
"push." The cue seems to be to take things easy. 
The very pens used by the students were turkey 
quills. So I had been with "Tom Brown at Oxford." 
In a Riot 

On the way to Birmingham, I had the surprise of 
seeing the grand palace of Blenheim, as it suddenly 
burst upon me in a most enchanting forest of oaks, 
lindens and maples. The place seemed so big, so 

46 



ENGLAND 



-III 

Bf- " 



111! M^^¥3!s«te 




■■■■ : - '■■■■ 




Four Tons of Spickler's Cabbage 




Home of the English "Blokes' 



IRELAND 




Passing Island — Atlantic 




WITHOUT A CENT 

lonely, so exclusive, I would not want to live there. 
No dogs, no kiddies, no cows, were to be seen. I did 
not envy the Miss Vanderbilt who left our land to 
live here. Near this estate I came upon the old home 
of George Washington, riding through the delirious 
forest of Arden, into Stratford, where, in Shakes- 
peare's home, I wrote my name, right below "Walter 
Scott's! 

Sunday night in Birmingham I was invited by a 
City Councillor to speak from his wagon in the "Bull 
Ring," a big open square in the center of business. 
It was nine when we mounted the wagon-pulpit amid 
a sea of upturned faces running into the ten thousand. 
He first harangued the crowd, which grew turbulent 
under his way of saying things. "You'r a liar!" 
"Pull him down!" hurtled from the maddening 
crowd. He was breeding a riot, and I was helpless 
in the midst of it. I expected the wagon to be over- 
turned, for the mass of people surged against it, 
squeezing it until it creaked. Men began to climb 
into it, and two rowdies were in the act of taking 
hold of the councillor when the riot-call squad of 
police arrived, and led the bullies away under arrest. 
If only the councillor would stop, I thought, and give 
me a chance to talk to them. I wanted to pull his 
coat-tail to make him sit down. But he represented 
the great City of Birmingham, and I was only an in- 
vited guest. Finally he began to stop in his Irish 
way, for he was Irish. I had remained cool and col- 
lected, my eyes on the crowd, and the speaker. The 
more they had raved the more I had calmed. 

I was introduced as an American tourist. At once 
I was on my feet, and instantly I felt the irresistible 
sway of hitherto uncontrollable passion subside into 
curiously interested gaze. Before I had said a word 
I was master of the ten thousand : — 

"You have all heard of Abraham Lincoln, that good 
friend of the common people. I come from his home 
in the great Mississippi Valley, in Illinois, that great 

49 



AROUND THE WORLD 

State of the United States of America ! " I was ready 
for anything, from a shower of bricks to applause. 
I knew that a sermon would be the last thing that 
multitude would stand for, so under striking anec- 
dotes of American life, I hid my points of discus- 
sion. A gentle calm suffused my hearers. Not a 
soul moved in his tracks. There was no sound be- 
yond that of my own voice. It was a deathlike 
silence. The faces blended into one great sheet of 
paling whiteness, as with mouths open, and heads 
forward, they listened to my words. The ten thou- 
sand stretched back so far on all sides of the wagon 
I was forced to speak with such vehemence as to 
quite deprive me of the use of my voice for one week. 
An offering was taken at the close, which was to be 
mine, but the Councillor changed his mind after he 
got it, and kept it. 

On another occasion as I was being introduced, the 
Chairman said: "I have heard many speakers in the 
Bull Ring, but I have never seen a crowd as still as 
when this American traveler spoke there on Sunday 
night. Twice I found myself staring, with mouth 
wide-open. I didn't know where I was." So, if I 
didn't get any of my collection, which was a big one, 
my vanity was touched on hearing these words. 

On the morning of November 11 I went to the 
Post Office and sent a message over Mr. Cadbury's 
private wire, at his expense, asking an interview. 
Almost instantly the answer came that I could not see 
him. I regretted it, but as he paid for my message, 
I wired him again, asking if he could not see me on 
the following morning. He could. 

To my surprise, the office buildings and factories 
were low, of rustic beauty, adorned with summer 
foliage, in the midst of parks and gardens. In a soft 
chair I was seated by a blazing hearth with the re- 
nowned George Cadbury on my left side. His first 
look I shall never forget. It went right through me. 
But in that single look that great man had taken 

50 



WITHOUT A CENT 

my measure. Balancing, piercing, keen and business- 
like, sympathetic in his bearing, frank and dignified, 
I would pity the trifler who would seek a moment of 
his time. His greatest impression upon me was his 
utter abandon, and though kingly in reserve, his whole 
soul seemed to fuse into mine, — this man who had at 
first refused me audience! When I told him how I 
came to start on my tour without a cent in order to 
better study the world and its needs, he raised his 
eyes in prayer, and then broke the stillness with : " I 
will give you a five pound note." 

Maybe he heard about my speech in the "Bull 
Ring" and of the misappropriation of funds by the 
Councillor. Well, it sounded like five hundred thou- 
sand dollars to me. He went to another part of the 
building, and in a few minutes returned with five 
pounds in gold, equalling twenty-five dollars Ameri- 
can. 

"I have always had a hobby," said he, as we sat 
there looking into the fire, "that grew into this vil- 
lage. My personal and official work among people 
have taught me that in England, at least, something 
had to be done toward bettering their conditions if 
the country was to remain in its rank among nations. 
I think it is the duty and privilege of the capitalist 
manufacturer to take care of his workers, to treat 
them well over Sunday, as well as on week days ; to 
see that those who have helped him to riches should 
themselves have comforts and true happiness; that 
employers usually were selfish, caring only for the 
profits derived from labor irrespective of conditions, 
physical, social or moral, of their servants." So I 
had met this meek Quaker, maker of chocolate and 
of character, owner and editor of the brightest Lon- 
don Daily run on the Golden Rule, Sunday School 
Teacher, Statesman, Labor Leader, Preacher. 

I went through his model village of five hundred 
houses with an annual income of twenty-five thousand 
dollars all turned back into the village for further de- 

51 



AROUND THE WORLD 

velopment. It was a walk through fairyland, a song 
in architectural harmony, where no two houses were 
alike, with beauty and comfort in the highest degree. 
The tenant had eight hours for work, eight hours for 
recreation, and eight for sleep. On the first floor of 
the smaller house was the living room or kitchen, 
with bath in the floor, sixteen feet six inches by eleven 
feet, then a wash-room seven feet square, a pantry 
with a bay-window opening on a scenic view, and a 
reception room thirteen and a half feet by eleven. 
A lobby leads to different parts of the house. On the 
second floor were three bed-rooms and a linen closet. 
That the rich may not congregate by themselves, the 
smaller houses were scattered among the larger. Ap- 
ple, pear and plum trees grew on the lawn, with lin- 
den, holly and other trees in the street. 

Mothers brought their children to a fairy play- 
ground in the care of matrons while they returned to 
their work. Swimming and boating pools, with ath- 
letic fields, and a gym for boys and girls, with free 
training by experts, were in daily use. One-tenth of 
all the ground went to parks and pleasure resorts. 
When I saw this fragment of Heaven fallen to earth 
I believed more than ever that the Kingdom of God 
is with men, — and within us ; that we should set such 
principles to work, now, as will tend to bring com- 
fort and happiness to us all, by our own individual 
efforts. 

On the eve of leaving Birmingham I was a guest at 
the yearly Banquet of the survivors of the Balaklava 
War immortalized by Tennyson's "Charge of the 
Light Brigade." I had never expected to see one of 
these heroes, much less to have the great honor to 
dine with them, and to hear two of them recite the 
"Charge." Though eighty years old, these boys 
were rosy-cheeked, robust and handsome. Six hun- 
dred went into that horror, and after a few minutes 
came out again, all that was left of them, — one hun- 
dred and ninety-eight. 

52 



WITHOUT A CENT 

The greatest power for temperance in Great Britain 
I found to be the Good Templar Lodge. Almost 
nightly I visited one of these Lodges, where refresh- 
ments and social games were enjoyed. The women 
brought their knitting, and when one of them arose 
to second a motion, her long needles kept flying 
through the Suropshire or Lancastrian wool. I found 
no "Little Red School House" in England, and there 
were no real American High Schools. An element of 
weakness was the two-system schools of the Noncon- 
formist Church, and the "Church." None of these 
schools welcome visitors, and my getting into them 
was due to my nerve rather than to an invitation. 

On the last days of November I lunched at the 
guide-post "Holyhead 194 miles," where an English 
robin, in size between a sparrow and a wren, with little 
crimson breast, hopped off with some bread crumbs. 
In December I still found abundance of blackberries 
in the hedge, with no one picking them but myself 
and the birds. I soon found big mountains crossing 
my path long before I crossed the frontier into Wales, 
with Rodney's Pillar on one of these, where once 
lived the bandit who thrived by overturning and rob- 
bing mail-coaches, whose horse had been shod with 
the shoes set backward, causing his pursuers to end 
up where he began ! 

IN THE WILD MOUNTAINS OF WALES 

This is the cloud-wrapped mountain land, 
Jammed with sights and scenery grand ; 
These are the people I love to know, 
With hearts of fervor and pure as snow, 
Modest, but mighty Wales. 

— Lines in Welsh lady's album by Author. 

I was in the land of the King of the Cymri, where 
the savage Picts lived in wanton sexual freedom. 
Protected by cavern barrier and dashing mountain 
stream, they long resisted the gentle rose-water and 



AROUND THE WORLD 

facial cream of civilization, when the Norman Con- 
quest finally smoothed out the racial wrinkles of 
roving clans and softened the craggy features of petty 
kingdoms until after five hundred years of beauty- 
shop treatment, Wales has evolved. The Welsh are 
as different as are the Irish, English or Scotch. They 
speak in high-pitched tones, thinly nervous, and their 
songs are not rag-time. The language is even 
stranger than the race. Boot is esgid ; crow is bran ; 
dogs, cun; geese, gwyddow; cows, guartheg; men, 
dynion; women, cjwrogedd and sock, hosan. The 
cultivated Welsh lady speaks English usually, and 
has a voice of peculiar charm. The girls talk sweetly, 
— but what girl doesn't! Between landlord and ten- 
ant was a wide cleavage. English and Welsh were 
taught in the schools, and this common knowledge of 
two languages was bringing the two classes to- 
gether. Children, ten years old did as good work in 
"Drawing" as do our pupils at the age of twelve or 
fourteen. The teacher stood behind the high desk 
all day long in these rude schools, where every pupil 
was mentally standing, too. Kugged in theology, 
the Methodist doctrine led. In the Sunday School 
the kiddies recited verses learned at home, as did also 
the young ladies, while the young men, as everywhere, 
looked on, — in a chapel furnished in fir-wood, with 
crimson cushions in a few of the pews, but with most 
of them hard and uncomfortable to sit in, purposely 
made so for the raw members who would have none 
of the "ungodly cushions invented by the devil." 

The Welsh gave me less comforts but more cor- 
diality than the English. There was usually a kitchen 
for the servants, a dining hall for the family, the male 
servants occupying the loft above the sheep-pen. At 
a farm near Llangollen that hung to a rocky hook on 
the side of the mountain above the River Dee, I was 
received with simple grace. Old but comfortable 
was the house, with hunting outfits hanging from the 
ceiling of heavy timber. Over a long table was spread 

54 



WITHOUT A CENT 

the snowy cloth, with autumn and chill on the out- 
side, when we sat down to mutton chops, milk, bread 
and butter, and the best blackberry pie I ever ate. 
You must go to Wales to eat mutton. In the poorer 
families I was served at six in the morning, bruised 
oatcake and buttermilk. At nine, bread and butter, 
with black tea. At noon, bacon and potatoes. At 
four, suran, a kind of soup. At eight, porridge, bread 
and butter. 

For rugged beauty the Welsh mountains are a sur- 
prise. Geology points at you everywhere. Volcanic 
upheavals had squeezed the solid greenish-gray grit 
and slender bands of slate, limestone and conglom- 
erate, with such force as to melt them into running 
streams of fire that on cooling left them with curv- 
ature of the spine, the several strata exposed in 
symmetrical flexion. In the valley of the River Dee 
lay great blocks of red limestone tumbled from sky- 
pierced crags as if glad to be rid of such mighty bur- 
dens. Usually gentle in outline, but massive in swell, 
they made easy wheeling on a polished path. Now 
you ride at their feet. The next two miles finds you 
half way up their noble heads, letting you look down, 
as you ascend, upon smiling valley of silvery azure, 
far, far below. MelloAved by the distance down, its 
glance is wooing. Ahead of you, and above you, are 
still higher peaks, luring you up from the sylvan 
charm. You ride out over trees tall, or soar far above 
them on a down-grade to another summit, — like a 
bird, with hollow bone, ball-bearings and rubber-tired. 
Now you turn abruptly to the right, then just as 
sharply to the left, amid thousands of vistas, so eager 
you can hardly wait to see what's next, but loathe to 
leave what is passing ; spell-bound, you are their will- 
ing prisoner, glad to be hugged tight in their giant 
arms against their dewy cheeks, under their brawny 
brows. 

Here comes a flock of sheep, with soft, long curling 
silken wool. They do not get out of the way. Now 

55 



AROUND THE WORLD 

a-lead, now among them, now behind, the shepherd 
dog directs. Here comes a trap with two laughing 
girls, their horse nearly falling as he turns a sharp 
curve under a mammoth projecting boulder. High 
above, an eagle soars, about to perch on an eeyrie a 
thousand feet up. Far below, in a tortuous maze of 
glen, glides, now fast, now slow, a small boat of be- 
lated tourists down stream to the Glen Hotel. The 
picture is all but Alpine. Now we ascend again, only 
to descend, then up again, and wind around and 
around until the compass is agog, only to descend 
again, with brake applied. The air is the cool of 
autumn. It is health to be out. It is wealth to be 
a-go. Now we glide around the thirtieth curve, where 
falls away a winding flow of road with a thrill in 
every foot, where the danger from a broken fork or 
slipping brake adds to the uncertain joy, the wheel 
singing the song of full speed, musical in the soft 
melody of motion, each cavern, each clump of trees, 
each glen sounding its own echo, blending with the 
constant tintillation of the steel balls in their perfect 
bearings, merging in the far away whisper of the 
green valley below, composing a pastoral lay, never 
read on musician's staff. Still I go down, through 
overhanging trees, kissed by every-varying layers of 
scented air, warmer, then cooler, then warmer again, 
with clear water gurgling above, leaping into the 
very roadway to hide in a deep pool by the side of a 
great oval, red boulder, before it hies away and gushes 
over the cliffs, to dance down in a hundred little cas- 
cades that make it laugh, and cry, and pout. The 
soft music of falling waters among mountain bould- 
ers is the most soothing melody I know. 

In a long valley that will soon take us to the foot 
of the main ascent, the wheel shoots across some old 
stone bridges, massive in rugged strength, weather- 
browned, spanning wild streams by Roman arch, gold 
and crimson ivy running rampant. Close by is the 
railroad viaduct, high and picturesque, over the Dee. 

56 



WITHOUT A CENT 

Near by is the canal viaduct or bridge of water, be- 
gun by Telford in 1795, crossing one hundred and 
twenty feet above the stream, sustained by nineteen 
stone arches so slender they look too weak to bear up 
the flowing channel of water with heavy-laden boats. 
Seventy rods long, it impresses with the contrast of 
civilized genius and raw mountains wildness. Ruins 
of grand old castles leer on all sides, hanging right to 
the side of the perpendicular abyss. 

The evening had been calm, the close of a perfect 
day. A group of peasant women, wearing queer 
broad-brimmed hats of mannish type, halting for a 
quick drink at a spring, hastened as if they knew by 
long experience in these mountains, the nature of the 
cumulous cloud now hanging over the peak, that was 
soon to break and roll down the ragged sides with 
darkness and tempest instant. In the hope of finding 
some mountain inn, I wormed up, dismounting on the 
steeper slopes, and pushing my wheel where the way 
was treacherous. Had I known of the desolate pass 
over the wildest of crags, and the long miles of dan- 
gers in a drenching rain among rock-locked chasms 
requiring daylight and trusty guides to cross, I should 
have turned back. 

No one seemed to live up here. Not the sound of 
a living creature save the cry of a leopard or other 
wild animal could be heard, the darkness cut by 
forked lightning, the thunder with deafening tumult. 
My lamp was still burning, but the wind became so 
wild, the downpour so heavy, the rays seemed to blow 
back, unable to pierce the watery darkness ahead, 
with progress at times almost impossible, and the con- 
stant danger of being blown from the road. My tea 
of two slices of bread and butter had been too little for 
the energy now demanded. The higher I went the 
greater the force of the storm, and the farther off 
seemed the crest. Without knowing it, I had crossed 
the Pass, when my wheel, on the down slope seemed to 
drop out from under me and shoot forward in a weird 

57 



AROUND THE WORLD 

manner, uninfluenced by the brake. Though the road 
seemed to rise in front of me, an illusion common at 
night, I found it running away, below me, at such a 
speed I was afraid to set the brake. The hills were 
of dark blue slate here, the same slate from which 
school-slates are made, their color and shape only in- 
tensifying the utter gloom. Above, in the crags, the 
wind howled; about me it swooped, with the wild 
fury of a maddened eagle, blowing me this way and 
that, twisting my cycle cape about my head and neck 
as it cracked the whip over my shoulders. Then a 
cruel blast took away my light where it was impos- 
sible to relight. On the right or wrong path, I knew 
not. I just kept on, desperate, my shoes full of cold 
water, until an overhanging portion of the mountain 
offered a cave-like shelter where I waited. The storm 
seemed to center its fury upon the defenseless peaks. 
From my safe position I could hear the rocks, washed 
loose from their moorings, tumbling to gullies far 
below, snapping off trees, and crunching the shrub- 
bery in their course. The whole mountain side be- 
came a flood of hysteric water, sweeping the road 
with a force hard to resist, bearing driftwood and 
dumping it at the entrance to my shelter. Several 
streams, gathering from ravines above, poured over 
the knob under which I waited, carrying with them 
stones of great size that dropped intact, or smashed 
into pieces just outside of my cave. Though my feet 
and legs were wet, I found a dry match that lighted 
my lamp, which guided me from the cavern now 
leaking and threatening to fall in. 

I have always had an instinctive fear of a body of 
water, particularly if suddenly discovered at night, 
a fear that impels me toward rather than from it. I 
had walked and ridden a short distance when the 
black outlines on my left gave way to a whitish 
stretch of surface far below. The flashes of lightning 
revealed it clearly, though more like a mirage than a 
real body of water, as it formed jagged bays under 

58 



WITHOUT A CENT 

brow-beating cliffs. I moved cautiously to the edge 
of the wall, when a bolt of lightning struck near by, 
lighting the whole valley below and setting off the 
ominous peaks on the other side. Hugging close the 
very wall, here rising perpendicularly from a great 
depth, was the real body of water. As there was no 
sound of wave it could not be the Irish Channel, but 
river or lake, it was there. Its presence in the dark- 
ness gave me an uncanny feeling, and when I found 
that the wall of the roadway had been washed away 
a few paces on, I shuddered at the thought of my 
being hurled out from the road into that watery grave, 
for the road here turned off abruptly, hiding itself 
by its acute turn, while the break in the wall resem- 
bled the extension of the road. 

The water basin soon narrowed to a stream. From 
the deep chasm I could hear the hoarse gutteral of 
falling floods, dozens of gullies pouring their burdens 
into the lake with deafening crash on one side, and 
with raging roar on another, while the very ground 
under me seemed to be slipping away with the racing 
tide that poured through my wheel and over the tops 
of my shoes, all but washing my feet from under me. 
Thrice out I lighted my lamp under the edge of a 
boulder, not far from which a ray from it revealed 
a hunter's cabin. The only response to my yelling 
and knocking was a series of mocking echoes. The 
lamp flickered and went out. Should I break the door 
down and enter this shelter, waiting until daylight to 
find my way to more comforts ? Not even the owner, 
knowing of my condition, would possibly object if I 
paid him for the damages to the door. But I was too 
wet; and there was still a chance of my reaching 
human habitations. 

As I went on the gorge gulched deeper and deeper 
as the mountain rivers tumbled with greater fury to 
its appalling depths, the incandescent glow of smash- 
ing spray throwing over the gloomy setting a feeble 
light that set off the hills of slate like grim spectres 

59 



AROUND THE WORLD 

crouching before a smouldering camp-fire. By the 
aid of that light I rode forward on a better piece of 
road, though very steep and violent in curve. Again 
the wheel seemed to be getting from under me as I 
repeatedly saved myself by leaping from her on a 
road cut from the solid mountain wall. Several times 
I collided with the balustrade built up at the outer 
edge to prevent a fatal plunge, when the road turned 
abruptly from its advertised direction, scratching my 
leg on the outer edges and peeling my hand as I broke 
the force of the collision. 

Then I saw some lights on my right, as I ran and 
rode, until I came to a settlement like a village, at the 
first prosperous house of which I knocked. A waiting 
maid carried my card, wet and limp, to her mistress, 
with my request for shelter for the night. Then a 
pretty young woman came to the door at once. 

"Come in and take a seat by the fire," she said, 
sympathetically. 

While drying my socks and wet clothing by a blaz- 
ing hearth, she gave orders to her maids in the 
kitchen. Big pieces of bacon hung from the ceiling 
amid sage and vegetables. Yet there was an air of 
respectability and comfort about the house suggesting 
hospitality out of the ordinary awaiting me. Now 
and again she would come and speak to me, each time 
letting me be more assured that I was not only to 
stay all night, but that I was greatly welcome. Peat 
cut to the size of bricks burned on the open fireplace. 
On the mantle was a set of copper kettles. On the 
fire-hook hung an iron kettle covered by an iron lid, 
the steam issuing from the pug spout near the top. 
Fire-tongs and toasting forks lay to one side, propped 
against the fender. In a side room on a long home- 
made table male and female servants were setting 
dishes and food, in the center of which were silver 
coffee and tea pots with china cups. Supper, the last 
meal of the day, was all but ready, for it was nine 
o'clock and not midnight, as I partly expected. I 

60 



WITHOUT A CENT 

was putting on my shoes when my gentle host came 
again. 

' ' I have invited a few of my girl friends to take tea 
with me tonight," she said. ''Won't yon step in and 
take some with them?" 

GREAT GLIBBERGEFITZ ! ! Not " you may, ' ' but 
"won't you?" So she took me, not to the table of 
the servants in the kitchen, but down into another 
room — the guest room, two steps down — where was a 
second hearth all aglow. At the steaming table, with 
flowers at both ends, she presented me to four girls of 
high-school and college age ! ! Out of the darkness 
and danger I had come into a young man's greatest 
chance — five impressionable females of cultured train- 
ing and winning graces — to talk with them over Eng- 
lish tea, Welsh lamb, Irish butter, Scotch meal and 
American need ! 

Then the girls sang at the piano or listened to my 
adventure until a late hour. They were surprised that 
I made the Pass during the night and storm, where 
they told me of a cycling tourist who, while coasting 
the road, had met his death in daylight. Next morn- 
ing (Sunday) breakfast was served me in bed. After 
luncheon of mutton roast, vegetables and pudding, 
the girls having stayed over, I went back to see by 
day what I couldn't see the night before. The cyclist 
ahead of me had been killed at the third and lowest 
curve of the three curves near the third mile-stone 
from Bethesda, fifty yards back from which I had 
dismounted at the going out of my light. Far below 
the road was the "Devil's Kitchen," where Idwal 
was cast from the top of the cliff, two thousand feet 
above. A little farther back I found the strange body 
of water, the enclosing mountain weirdly gashed with 
ragged rents, from the wounds of which still spouted 
forth foaming cataracts. There was also the "Devil's 
Punch Bowl," amid grewsome rocks, where even in 
daylight their uncanny shape and size made a fitting 
abode for the damned. 

61 



AROUND THE WORLD 

Monday morning I rode away from the "Tyn-y- 
maes ' ' farm, managed by a brother and sister, catch- 
ing the little boat for Dublin, landing in a few hours 
at the North "Wall, where on the very next voyage, 
after beating hopelessly through a violent storm, it 
sank in the harbor with fifteen passengers aboard. 

THE LAND OF THE SHAMROCK 

' ' sunny isle of blooming woods ! ' ' 
I took the whole winter to ride completely around 
the island, enjoying the hospitality of the kindest 
people on the globe. Up till New Year's I picked 
blackberries from the hedgerows. Although it rained 
three times a day and five at night, the weather was 
pleasant. The Irish jaunting car was the most strik- 
ing difference here besides the people themselves. 
This buggy rides above the two wheels like a hen 
squatting over her chicks, the driver facing one side 
of the road and you the other. I wanted to strike up 
an acquaintance with my driver, so I told him I used 
to have an Irish neighbor by the name of "Rock." 
"Well!" said he, "that's a hard name!" 
I rode through Sackville street, the Broadway of 
Dublin, wide and straight, at one end graced by the 
Nelson Pillar and at the other by 'Council's Bridge, 
going to the Bank of Ireland, not to draw funds, but 
to see its grand portico supported by four Doric pillars 
with giant sculptures on the tympanum, representing 
the union of England with Ireland, the figure seated 
on a shell, while Neptune drives away Famine and 
Despair. Sixty stupendous pillars as big around as 
hogsheads, thirty or so feet high, swing in magnificent 
curve. 

Having been warned about the difficulty of making 
my way over Ireland, I was agreeably surprised on a 
ride north to Dundalk and return — such delightful 
country, with periwinkles growing in the woods and 
cabbage in the gardens, the grass as green as grass 
can be. The country homes were damp, and the fire- 

62 



WITHOUT A CENT 

place sent ninety per cent of the heat up the chimney. 
I stopped over night in the Presbyterian manse with 
Kev. Harrison's family, being most kindly cared for 
in a richly furnished bedroom, where between the 
white merinos I fear I left a committee of "gray- 
backs" or "cooties," which I had caught in some 
lodging-house before entering Ireland. In the morn- 
ing my shoes had been cleaned and polished, and 
when I left this dear man put into my hands a silver 
florin. 

About ninety per cent of the natives are Catholics, 
while most of the ten per- cent of Protestants live in 
Belfast and the North. I was cautioned not to men- 
tion religion in my talks, and when I taught some of 
the children to sing "Precious Jewels" the police 
informed me I had better desist. On Christmas day I 
stopped in a little town where my home was with a 
family who kept a little grocery in the front or living 
room, while my bedroom was just off the rear. Hastily 
entering my room that evening in the dark, I was 
struck on the hands by something like a ball-bat. 
Striking a match, I found the donkey, with head down 
and heels aimed for my nose, ready for a second trial 
at me. The chickens sometimes came into my room, 
too, but as a rule they roosted on barrels and boxes 
or on the scale beams in the grocery. In most homes 
the floor is constantly wet from rain coming down the 
big chimney and by waste water being thrown there, 
the floor often being of loosely laid brick or the 
ground. Over this the rosk-cheeked baby crawls to 
rugged health. 

One noon I stopped at a prosperous farmer's house, 
where a shyly modest girl of seventeen received me 
in the hall, where her tall father invited me in to a 
place made for me at the table between the two tall 
sons. When I saw that I had been put into the chair 
occupied by the daughter I refused it, but they made 
me keep it. Long slabs of bacon hung from the ceil- 
ing near the fire-place, some of which was on the table 

63 



AROUND THE WORLD 

stewed with cabbage and spuds. Again and again the 
farmer helped me to the pork, sweet and tender, while 
the girl brought me a pitcher of rich milk and a plate 
of yellow butter, after which she passed the bread 
she had baked. The Irish loaf is round and flat, about 
the size of a baby-carriage wheel, usually made of 
buttermilk. It is good, but no amount of butter makes 
it taste like other bread. The two boys were as shy as 
their sister, and both left the table with plates half- 
emptied. 

Arrested 

In a little town I asked for lodging and was directed 
to a plain plastered house that proved to be the home 
of one of the cops. He "marked" me instantly and 
went out, to return in a short time with another cop, 
both of whom looked suspiciously at me and quizzed 
me. When I left the house to get rid of them and 
to see the sights before dark, these men followed at a 
distance, and when I returned they asked me if I had 
come from Scotland. These two men and a third 
police found on the street gave me glances that upset 
my nerves. I had heard so much about religious per- 
secution here, and as the town was thoroughly 
Catholic, I believed they meant to do me harm. All 
evening they stayed by me as I sat forlornly at the 
fireplace, watching me constantly. It was about nine 
when one of them left the house and returned shortly 
with a paper, saying as he asked me to stand up, 
"I arrest you as blankety blank from Scotland 
Yards." Just what Scotland Yards were I did not 
know at that time. 

"Youse look loike a fair lad, but we nivver go by 
looks as fer 'ristin' a man," he said. "Show us your 
papers." 

"You're all right, sir; right yez are," said the cop. 
"Without that you would be spendin* a night in the 
free lodgings. ' ' 

Then they told me they had been looking for an 
insurance fraud escaped from Scotland. 

64 



IRELAND 




Irish Constabulary 




Irish Cart 



IRELAND 



■ 




Three Hundred Feet Above the Ocean 




Where Author Met the Real Irish 



WITHOUT A CENT 

That was in the north of Ireland. In the south of 
Ireland I had more trouble. The south is bitterly 
opposed to the English. "Wexford is a city in the 
south. In its market square one Saturday night I 
gathered a mob about me and began. In the north I 
had been taken for a Scotch insurance fake. Here 
the mob chased me down a back street because they 
thought I was an Englishman. I felt humiliated at 
what had happened, and next morning I had a notion 
to remain indoors all day. But it was New Year's 
Sunday. I changed my mind and went to the Meth- 
odist Church. After the sermon a tall man introduced 
himself to me as the justice of the peace. He said he 
happened to be passing the night before and saw the 
mob. So I began to be sorry I had come out to church. 
Then he invited me to go with him. So I more than 
half expected to be arrested again. We walked to the 
edge of town and then up to a high wall and to a big 
stone house setting well back in the center of a great 
lawn. It was his own palatial home. In the big 
drawing-room he introduced me to his family as we 
sat down to turkey and cranberry sauce, and the next 
morning he presented me with one of his most beauti- 
ful — no, not daughters, of which he had three of 
school-age — but pieces of gold to help me over the 
island. 

In Waterford the temperance folk had me remain 
with them for several weeks while preparing a two- 
night show. The committee asked me to distribute 
advertising matter concerning it to which I seriously 
objected, saying that in America it would be suicide 
for a lecturer or entertainer to show himself much 
before his appearance on the platform. So, trusting 
to their judgment, I went all over town. When I 
stepped on the platform none needed an introduction. 
We had run against each other a thousand times. But 
it was a critical audience, so I felt my way along, as I 
did in the Welsh mountains, until they gave me im- 
plicit trust and applause the most sincere. From that 

67 



AROUND THE WORLD 

moment we fell in love with each other and, like a 
lover, I could not do too much for them. There was 
complete fusion of speaker and audience, and I could 
feel the pleasure of the invisible currents of magnetic 
control. 

In the history of Christianity no form of its devel- 
opment has elicited such marked and thrilling interest 
as the study of monasticism. In it reposed the science 
and art, the culture and hope of the world. After a 
hard climb up a long mountain I came to Mount Mel- 
loray Monastery, shutting in from the world the 
Trappist Monks of the Cistercian Order of France, to 
be shut in here myself for five days. 

"Go in there," said the Prior, meeting me at the 
gate, habited in a long white and black robe with 
cowl drawn over his head. "It'll be a fine place for 
you to rest." Another monk greeted me kindly and 
showed me where I might keep my wheel, when I met 
the Guest-Master, who received me with a warm hand- 
shake. It was funny to shake hands with these old 
monks of five hundred to a thousand years ago. I 
thought they were all dead! 

"This will be your room," said the Master. "Din- 
ner will be ready soon. You will hear the bell." 

Assigned a seat at the table, the Master said, "You 
can now eat of our plain meal." Grace was said by a 
visiting priest from Scotland over big joints of roast- 
mutton and pork, boiled potatoes, cabbage and several 
kinds of bread. I declined ale and stout and took 
water instead. Everything on the table had been pro- 
duced by these monks right there on the mountain 
side. While we ate one of the monks read to us 
from "Meditations," as the monks served, coming 
and going in modest silence, like a poem in har- 
mony. 

' ' We get nothing, ' ' said the monk when I asked him 
as to salary. "We havn't need for a single penny. 
Every one has an object in view," said he, "but ours 
reaches to Heaven," quoting, "He that looseth his life 

68 



WITHOUT A CENT 

for my sake shall find it. ' ' On the walls was the word 
SILENCE ! 

We were shown the hard plank beds on which these 
monks must sleep, and from which they arise every 
morning at two to pray in the chapel. I broke a rule 
of my own here, that of tipping, and gladly dropped 
a gold coin into the "poor box" when ready to say 
good-bye and coast down the mountain on the other 
side by the charming Blackwater, deeply fringed with 
woodland greens of ivy, ferns and summer foliage, 
where at a grand sweep of the river the old bridge 
comes into view, beyond which is Lismore Castle, 
where I saw the famous Bishop's crozier of 1113. I 
looked out of the window where King James once, 
stood when he grew dizzy as he looked so far down 
upon the flowing water. The surprise to the king, as 
to me, was the great contrast in the two levels outside 
— the front being approached by a fine sward of grass 
from a much higher level, while the river falls away 
precipitously to a great depth, with the wall of the 
palace built right up from the water. The view of 
the river here and of the Knock-me-all-down Moun- 
tains is one of the most charming in Ireland, if not of 
the world. 

The Good Templars of Cork advertised me for 
"Two Nights Only" as THE GREAT AMERICAN 
ORATOR ! on posters four feet high. As I had not 
at that time been known as a platform attraction, this 
publicity to my school-boy ambitions, petted my 
vanity. They gave me the entire proceeds of my two 
lectures and paid all of the expenses out of their own 
pocket. I had a room by the famous Shandon Bells, 
where I read my home papers, scanning my travel 
letters in them with queer interest. After a good let- 
ter from* one you love, the home paper brings the 
greatest joy. The news items told me of great changes 
reconstructing the old familiar map of life to which 
I as a youth believed I was bound forever. Not only 
the traveler, but all of us are Rip Van Winkles, com- 

69 



AROUND THE WORLD 

ing back to our childhood's home to find, with sink- 
ing heart, little trace of old-time scenes, to meet no 
more many of our playmates we have loved or hated, 
and for whose admiration we have striven. 

"There is a stone there that whoever kisses 
Oh he never misses to grow eloquent. 
'Tis he may win a maiden's love, 
Or become a member of Parliament." 

Of all daring feats, delivering an oration before a 
college faculty not excepted, this was the most haz- 
ardous of my life. When I had climbed the old stone 
stairway up the dark tower I found the Blarney Stone 
built out into the parapet wall several feet and down 
from the castle top on which I was standing. Just 
to look down through the wind-gutted opening, one 
hundred and twenty feet from the ground below, 
made me tremble. Several times I changed my mind, 
overcome by fear, gladly assuming that such a heroic 
venture was for greater heroes than I. If I kissed it 
I would have to let myself down to it, head first. The 
tourist who went the other way never got back. Then 
I ran down and begged the Irish girl selling curios to 
come up and hold me while I did the kissing. She 
blushed and said, "I'm afraid, mister, I can't hold 
you tight enough. ' ' Back I went, determined to do it 
or die. Most tourists use a rope or have their feet 
held by friends, the latter very uncertain and unduly 
risky. I removed my coat and vest. On these I laid 
my cap. Then I crawled out over the abyss. I looked 
down on the top of a tall pine just below. Then I 
got up and ran down to the girl again, urging her to 
come up and help me. "You better not, mister," she 
pleaded; "no one risks it alone." 

Back up I flew. This time I kept on my coat and 
pulled down my cap — to break the fall if I did go 
down. Then I prayed. Crawling to the edge, I seized 
the two vertical iron bars running down and support- 

70 



WITHOUT A CENT 

ing the stone, and began to slowly descend, hand 
under hand, the iron, cold and slippery. But if either 
hand slipped the least mite it meant a plunge head 
first to certain death. My knees had now reached the 
edge of the rock floor. An inch farther would place 
the entire weight of my body on my hands. Inch by 
inch I descended, my head and shoulders wedged 
against the parapet wall that hung so far out from 
the platform on which I lay, and was now slipping 
from, that my feet only now clung desperately to it. 
My life depended upon my hands. Almost the entire 
weight of my body was on them. If one of them 
should become paralyzed ! My eyes were staring at 
the Stone, but still I couldn't help seeing the one 
hundred and twenty feet of space below me, and the 
rough rocks I would fall on, if I suddenly lost my 
strength or nerve. But the Blarney Stone was still 
two feet from me, out and down. Slowly, and more 
slowly, I wormed down and out, and still down, and 
then a little more, and a little more, my hands trem- 
bling and my muscles tiring, until I had gone down 
so far I knew I could not get back — not unless I suc- 
ceeded in kissing the Stone, and using it as a help by 
which to push my body up and back. The wind 
whistled up through the opening, adding terror to my 
position, my hands chilling and numbing. I was at 
the end of my reach. If I slipped but an inch, the 
only way out would be down — a hundred and twenty 
feet! 

But I was still up there and hanging on. I knew 
now that if I did not kiss it I could not summon 
enough strength to get back, for failure robs of 
strength as well as of skill. My mind became as clear 
as a diamond. I was living the Nth power, when 
seconds were hours. Then I became hysterically 
happy. I was still up there, alive and safe, and I 
believed I could do it. Right there before me was the 
Stone. My forehead pressed it, but my lips were six 
inches away. In another ten seconds I would fall, 

71 



AROUND THE WORLD 

anyway. I knew that. So I used the last remaining 
strength in twisting my head around, my weight upon 
my outstretched arms, then screwed my face around, 
raised my head back, puckered out my lips and let 
my body swing against the right spot, planting a truly 
impassioned kiss right where it ought to go! Grip- 
ping still tighter with my last ebbing force, and using 
the outer wall and the Stone as an impact, I pushed 
up and back, and on and up, until my knees had 
worked back over the edge above, when my cramped 
muscles, relieved of much of their burden, worked 
on faithfully until they had me safe again on top of 
the tower. 

Laughing and crying for joy, I leaped to my feet, 
danced around the top and looked down over the 
parapet to see if I could find someone to tell my good 
news. An Irishman was approaching. To him I 
tossed penny after penny, telling him I had just kissed 
the Stone — I had to tell somebody. 

From Coachford the mountain-path crosses the 
Glashogariff into a little town with a big name, Car- 
rigadrobid, on the lazy Lee, with a charming old 
castle, rivaling the Rhine, rising amidstream as a but- 
tress to the bridge, the site chosen by the beautiful 
Una 'Carroll, whose infatuated lover built the castle- 
home to satisfy her queer whim. Leaving Inchigeelah, 
the Carrynacurra Castle browbeats the cyclist from a 
rugged escarpment near the mystic lake of Gougena- 
barra, walled in by precipitous peaks eighteen hun- 
dred feet above it, and reflecting their gloomy 
silhouettes in the clear water hugging their feet in 
fear. In the center of this haunted lake, which is 
about two miles around, rises the miniature island 
known as St. Finn Barre 's retreat, now in ruins. Not 
caring to be caught here at night, where "ghosts 
walk," my wheel coasted roads as smooth as glass on 
a down-grade that took my breath, mile after mile, as 
I drank the air-like liquid lemonade, into the Keina- 
beaigh Pass, "where the severed rocks resemble frag- 

72 



WITHOUT A CENT 

ments of a frozen sea." Then for a mile I ascended, 
the Pass narrowing until just wide enough for a 
wagon, the giant walls rising almost vertically until 
the very summit is reached, when scenery really 
begins ! 

Here I began a long descent to Bantry Bay, tropical 
in its climate, where lungs and throat are ever healed. 
At the summit of "Sugar Loaf" I snapped a little 
girl who brought me a glass of milk as sweet as the 
spring laughing its way out from the deep brown 
rocks. She refused pay for it, and so I will honor 
God's little steward by preserving her in this book. 
Riding the cool tunnel I began an eighteen-mile coast, 
the longest around the world save one in the Alps. 
Flying so fast through this wild scenery I had to look 
quick as things shot past me. Panorama after pano- 
rama, near and far, on both sides of the perfect road 
unrolled. I was in Kenmare before I thought I was 
half way there ! I want to ride this road a hundred 
times — this masterpiece of divine glory, adorned by 
man's epic in roads! 

Gold and silver clouds floated the afternoon sky as 
I climbed a new range for my first glimpse of Killar- 
ney. Riding leisurely through Windy Gap, the road 
took an abrupt jerk to the right, then a sudden drop, 
showing in the deep purple valley of M'Gillicuddy's 
Reeks a conceited little lake vainly trying to make me 
believe it was Killarney. By suggestive look of moun- 
tain and atmosphere ahead, I knew that something 
more wonderful than anything I had seen was about 
to be revealed. The rosy atmosphere crowned a layer 
in purple mists that shimmered in cloud-shadowed 
sunshine of summit and slope, the lower levels deep- 
ening in darker purples, half -hidden under the gauze 
of approaching night. With cap in hand I was riding 
another ascent, and still another, when with evening 
sun on my back, my breath held in, lo ! the three magic 
lakes, like jewels on a silver cord, burst suddenly into 
view! The air was still. Mellow music creeped up 

73 



AROUND THE WORLD 

from the valley as I drank in the fairest vision human 
eyes may gaze upon. ' ' From here on, ' ' said my guide- 
book, "for eight miles the scene is as from fairy- 
land." 

The drop became steeper and steeper, the scenery 
unrolling in magic grandeur. God made but one 
Ireland and one Killarney! Majestic in rugged 
beauty, this wild roadway, full of raptures, dazes 
the senses as in hypnotic trance. Evening in softest 
tints, evening in mauve and azure, lowered her modest 
curtain o 'er the hills. The lakes, drawing the cover 
of semi-darkness about them, glistened in their soft 
beds as if lighted from within. Twilight, with her 
companion stars, set the full moon just over the lower 
lake as I rode up to Muckross Castle right on the bank 
and clanged the knocker at the gate. 

A servant carried my card up, and I was admitted 
into the presence of Lord Clonmel and his two friends 
from London. I was to lodge at the High Keeper's 
place. "When the family retired to the floor above, I 
bolted my door and laid down to sleep. But the night 
was too fine; the moonlight scenery was too invit- 
ing. 

As soon as I believed the people were all asleep I 
arose, unbolted my door and stole out into the night. 
Dogs that had been barking earlier in the evening 
were now as quiet as the night. Never before had I 
seen such a wonderland of beauty in such a wonderful 
night. The full moon and stars acted like electric 
bulbs in the dome of Heaven. Not a leaf stirred. The 
silence itself was a symphony. The winter night was 
like June. And the light! You could read by it. 
Quietly I made my way past the castle and out along 
the main lake, getting farther and farther away from 
my host, thence into the mountain thicket, until the 
silence became more and more broken by the distant 
rushing of a waterfall from steep cliffs into its cradle 
of the lake. Birds, as much awakened by the bright 
night as by the rarity of footsteps at this time, flut- 

74 



WITHOUT A CENT 

tered among green-bowered trees, or with a few re- 
buking notes flew off to another leafy bed. 

So eager was I on this night quest amid the wilds, I 
had not thought of fear from animal or man until the 
sound of footsteps a hundred paces ahead made me 
suddenly aware of the audacious risk I was taking 
alone in this rough region. I stopped and held my 
breath as I listened. Evidently I had been discovered 
first, for the footsteps as of one approaching ceased. 
But they began again, more definite and more rapid, 
hurrying as if to meet me. Then I recalled the strict 
police watch over Ireland. This was perhaps none 
other than a night patrol around the lakes or from 
the wild-deer region above them. If so, and I were 
discovered by him at this time of night, I would be 
arrested, for it was now after midnight. My creden- 
tials — but they were back on my wheel in the keeper's 
house. If he found me he might be willing to go back 
with me, call up the keeper and confirm my story, if 
indeed his ' ' beat ' ' reached that far. But the fact that 
I had stolen from his house after he had put me to bed 
as his guest might not be the easiest thing to explain 
to the keeper, especially when roused from slumber. 
So I meant to hide myself from the approaching steps. 

The dense shade of a tree came almost to my feet. 
Into this covert I glided noiselessly and waited. For 
ten or fifteen minutes I stood here perfectly still, ex- 
pecting every moment to see a dark form emerge from 
the thicket ahead. Now regular and now irregular 
came the sound, not so much like footsteps as I had 
at first believed, but more like a biting or chewing of 
some animal at the trunk of a tree. My heart beat 
more calm, for I confess that while I did not want to 
meet with any wild animals, I was more willing to 
take my chances with the worst kind of one rather 
than to be led back under arrest to the high keeper. 
But whatever it was, I turned back to retrace my 
steps to the lodge. After going back a short distance 
I reproved myself for cowardice and turned again to 

75 



AROUND THE WORLD 

seek out the cause of the noise. Nearer and nearer I 
stealthily made my way through the tangled brush 
and heavy timber until I reached an open space on the 
other side of which was a clump of small trees near 
a rocky ravine. I knew that the object of my search 
was in that bunch of trees, so I tip-toed across the 
open space and then threaded through the shrubbery. 
Suddenly the noise ceased. My heart thumped. I 
was close to it, whatever it was. Then it began again 
and I took several steps nearer, as I held back the 
tangled branches with both hands and peered into 
the shadows. There it was, this thing that was mak- 
ing this noise that sounded like footsteps, a four- 
legged animal the size of a cow, with head from me 
and hind feet not over six feet away ! It was chew- 
ing at the outcropping roots and bark of a little tree. 
Then I saw that it was a wild deer — the first I remem- 
bered seeing — in the act of taking its breakfast. How 
I had ever been able to get so near it, with instinct 
and sense of smell so strong, and to remain close to it 
I cannot understand. It seemed unfair that I should 
take advantage of the animal's sense of smell, hearing 
and sight, so I yelled, expecting it to take instant 
flight. To my surprise it remained perfectly motion- 
less, ceased chewing, raised its beautiful antlered head 
and looked slowly and leisurely around without a 
single movement of any other part of the body and 
without a tremor of muscle. Then with sudden bound 
this giant stag shot away into the denser foliage up 
the mountain side, leaping the gully as my hair stood 
on end, covering rock after rock, his head raised, his 
antlers back, lying upon his graceful neck as he 
rocked in the full poetry of motion. For a minute I 
must have stood there looking in the direction he had 
taken, then at the spot in which he had just been 
standing. 

Glad that I had conquered my fear and discovered 
the cause, I returned to the lodge and a little after 
six entered my bedroom, the family still asleep, the 

76 



IRELAND AND SCOTLAND 




W 



%^h>mm^ 






IIMM 



Belfast Ship Building 




Bonny Scotland 



IRELAND AND SCOTLAND 






Rails Depressed in Scotland for Safety 



WITHOUT A CENT 

castle quiet. I bolted the door and slept soundly until 
eight, when I was called up to porridge and venison. 
Only the stag knew of my night 's prowl. 

The next morning, like the night, was a perfect calm 
without a cloud. "If only you have a pretty day for 
Killarney, ' ' said my hosts along the way. And I did 
— "the finest in ninety days," the castle-folks de- 
clared. The grass sparkled in gleaming dew with 
wild flowers abloom. Contrasting with the smooth, 
clear water of the lake, the towering mountains, rising 
in dark masses, increased its limpid glow. A purple 
haze hung near their tops through which sunshine 
streamed like silken snow, the water of as many tints 
as the direction viewed, from the most brilliant flash 
that softened into mellow tints of azure, blues and 
greens, reflected by sky and hill. The sculling of a 
boat on the opposite side stirred the glassy sea into 
a million curls, the dipping of the oar a mile or more 
away was distinctly heard, while the pebble dropped 
by the girl from the stern sent circle after circle back 
that softly broke into the V-shape ripples of the boat 
and spread fantastic etchery behind. 

At ten I sought the butler at the castle and saw 
through the vast kitchens. Here the ' ' scullions ' ' were 
at work, just as I read of them in historic novels — 
young and old, male and female — washing dishes, 
scouring pans, pressing clothes, packing hunting- 
outfits, uncorking fizz bottles. Talking and laughing 
at their duties, they were getting more fun out of 
their work than the lord got out of all his leisure. 

ON THE BANKS OF BONNIE DOON 

I landed in beautiful Glasgow from a little launch 
and made my home at the sumptuous Y. M. C. A. 
and the Model Lodging House, the Scotch introducing 
me as "Our very distinguished visitor," and learn- 
ing by living with them their utter sincerity and good- 
ness of heart. I had done the Scottish lake region on 
one of the finest of tallyho rides with a lot of Ameri- 

79 



AROUND THE WORLD 

cans — swimming in the lakes and gathering heather, 
where 

"The heathcock shrilly crew, 
And morning dawned on Ben Benue." 

On this bike trip to Scotland I could not rise to the 
wonderful heights of that first visit during a college 
vacation, but I was glad to be there again, for I longed 
to find a little lassie met at the home of Robbie Burns 
at that time. 

So with the gentle breeze of spring kissing my cheek 
I rode into the Burns country through Ayr and stood 
on the banks of the stream where Robbie and his High- 
land Mary plighted their troth ; walked into the field 
where he ploughed up the mouse, and into the meadow 
where he plucked the daisy, where I picked one for 
mother and sister; laid on his wall-bed in the old cot- 
tage ; then rode towards the Bonnie Doon, near which 
lived the little eleven-year-old lassie whose snapshot 
of her and her chum, with signatures, I mixed at the 
time, forgetting which was "Jessie" and which "Lin- 
nie." Then in writing post-cards to them, what I 
said to one I was meaning to say to the other, and the 
one to whom I said the nice things did not seem to 
care, while the other to whom I was indifferent re- 
sponded with enthusiasm. So when I located "Jes- 
sie" and called upon her, not far from Ayr, I was 
disappointed. She was not at all like the girl I had 
remembered. But she knew where "Linnie" lived. 

"You gae the rood by the kirk in the vale, keeping 
the valley to the Doon. She lives in the stone-hoose 
amang the trees," she told me, seeming also to know 
of the mistake I had made. 

How I did ride ! Passing some houses plastered and 
whitewashed, I came to the kirk on my right, then 
into a flowery dell by the rapid-flowing Doon to a 
stone cottage behind shrubs and flowers. I banged 
the knocker several times, when a fine looking mother 
let me tell her who I was and why I had come. 

80 






WITHOUT A CENT 

' ' mon ! ' ' said she, ' ' and are you the tourist from 
America my Linnie told me she met with at Robbie 's 
hame some years ago?" 

"Where is she?" I asked, impatiently. "Does she 
live here, and are you her mother?" 

"Yes, mon ! but come on in. Have a sate on a cheer. 
We '11 be havin ' tay soon. I dinna ken where Lin is. ' ' 

"Don't say you don't know. I just came from her 
friend Jessie's and I must ride on. It will soon be 
night." 

"You're in Scotland noo; it won't hurt you to get 
acquainted with us Scotch. We 're canny folk on the 
bark, but we share the last drap when we ken you," 
and she went to look for Linnie. Though the house 
was small, it was built to accommodate a big family, 
where strength and beauty harmonized with neatness 
and simple thrift. 

"Lin's in the glade after daisies. She'll be in any 
minute. I wouldn 't wonder she '11 be glad to see you. ' ' 
I was telling the mother of my proposed trip to the 
southern point of England and then to France, when 
the opening and closing of the kitchen door told of her 
return. Fourteen now, taller and prettier than ever, 
her light brown hair falling in silky softness over her 
shoulders before and behind, she coyly entered, walk- 
ing confidently yet timidly toward me, mute with 
girlish naivette, as she held out her little hand. Wide 
between the eyes, with very small mouth, her full- 
rounded face suggested tact and winning charm in a 
remarkable degree, magnetic and alluring. The pure 
glow of outdoor health was on her cheek in color and 
dimple, with a skin so fair it was transparent, and 
eyes as wonderful in their blue as the sky above 
her home. So young, so beautiful, so precocious, 
this second "Highland Mary" seemed too good to 
touch. 

■ ' Did you see Jessie ? ' ' she asked, with evident inter- 
est. 

I then told her about the mistake, and how I was 



AROUND THE WORLD 

beginning to fear of ever finding her, as she listened 
rather than talked. And after a frugal tea of wafer 
bread already thinly buttered, we went strolling along 
the Doone, picking wild flowers just as Robbie Burns 
used to do, and in the same spot, watching the birds 
build their nests, and listening to the melody of the 
flowing stream. Her mother had asked me to stop over 
night, and so I was secure in present happiness, losing 
no worries about the future. In fact, I lived here for 
three days in April, the May of Illinois, with the little 
girl who had exchanged post-cards with me, and who 
in the interim had won a valuable scholarship for best 
grades. One day we called upon the neighbors, and on 
Sunday went twice to the little kirk down the road, and 
once across the fields to another church, in the after- 
noon. On one of our hill- jaunts we came upon a little 
lamb about to perish, its mother lying nearby where 
she had been slain by dogs. It made me think of 
Sankey's "Ninety and Nine," composed near here in 
one of his meetings. Led by Linnie, I carried it to a 
farm-house, helping the owner to feed it for the first 
time by means of a bottle. 

On the last evening some friends were invited in to 
dine. My seat at the table of guests and family of 
several girls and several brothers, was between Linnie 
and her father — Linnie was the baby, and always sat 
next to her father. At the end of the meal, before we 
left the table, the father gathered up any bits of beef 
on our several plates, and deposited it on the platter 
holding the original, a typical instance of Scotch 
thrift. 

' ' Come on, Lin ! ' ' called her mother, the next morn- 
ing, as I was about to go, ' ' and say good-bye. ' ' 

She was only a school-girl, of course. I knew, on 
parting from her, that if I were ever to see her again, 
it would be only after I had completed my ride around 
the world from her door ; and so, when I said farewell 
to her, as she so tactfully went with me a little way over 
the hill, I kissed her, for the first time. 

82 



WITHOUT A CENT 

RIDE FULL LENGTH OF ENGLAND 

I crossed into England and rode the Lake District. 
It was just after Easter, and hundreds of cyclists en- 
joyed the fine weather and roads. The scenery around 
the lakes was superb. The road hugs the base of the 
mountain covered with snow near their tops, while 
quaint country homes and splendid trees fringe the 
enchantment. Lying by each other, in humble graves, 
were Coleridge and Wordsworth, near Windemere, 
where I rode sixteen miles and back before breakfast, 
such easy riding were these perfect roads. The next 
day I rode one hundred and five miles, riding along" the 
magnificent water system that carries the sparkling 
water through tunnels, over bridges, into a series of 
little lakes, each below the other, through a narrow 
valley, into Manchester. 

My only puncture since leaving Ireland was when coasting 
the steep, long hill into New Haven, at the southern end of 
England, where I pushed it aboard the little Channel Boat at 
dusk, my cyclometer registered 5,225 miles. 

IN THE LAND OF PARLEY VOUS 

Not yet quite day when I landed, I found the road 
out of Dieppe on Sunday morning, May 3, breaking 
my custom of resting on the Sabbath. My first sur- 
prise on the French roads were the wayside shrines 
with life-size images of the Saviour on wooden, iron, 
or stone crosses, two to twenty feet high. Artistic, or 
rude and weatherworn, their presence made me feel 
safe. The next striking objects were the road-trees 
with clump of branches right at the tall top, with little 
beauty in their bare trunks, contrasting with the lux- 
uriant trees of England. Then, too, the farmers lived 
in towns, and fields were not always defined by fences, 
while the dress of the men and boys around the stables 
was a loose overshirt reaching nearly to the knees. My 
first breakfast was of milk, white bread, and cold pork, 
in a little old plaster-house near a Catholic Church, 
where the children, parents, grand-mothers and bow- 
legged grand-daddies all came to worship at a service 

83 



AROUND THE WORLD 

as uninteresting to me as to them, with no American 
hope or Yankee promise in their faces. Led by an 
officer in red and blue costume, with hat the shape of 
a boat, the priest marched up and down the aisles of 
the church, followed by singers bearing banners, with 
the entire congregation behind. The priest, a mild, 
sweet-tempered man, reminded me of the good bishop 
in Les Miserables. 

Lazily I rode along country lanes past fields of 
wheat, vegetables and meadows. At twilight I emerged 
from a woodland into a fragrant valley where a wild 
doe shot across the road ahead of me, while I listened 
to my first nightingale singing its broken-hearted 
melody in the dip of the valley. Just as I climbed the 
hill on the other side, a flock of sparrows crossed above 
me, one of them striking the telephone wires and fall- 
ing to the ground. Dismounting, I picked it up, as it 
died, in my hands, with a broken neck. 

In a little town, over the hill, I was put under arrest. 

Arrested and Tried 

A crowd of loafers gathered about me where I had 
asked for a cheap lodging. Two officious men appeared 
who did not seem entirely satisfied with me. They 
tried to talk to me, but while I could read French eas- 
ily, we were both so excited, we could not understand 
one another. I was about to get on my wheel, when 
the taller of the two men seized it, saying, ' ' Come with 
us." With the two men on my left as questioners, I 
was given a seat behind a desk, the street mob now in 
front of it. I was in need of sleep, for I had slept none 
the night before, and my nerves were in no condition 
for the severe grill about to follow : 

Q. — "Avez-vous des papiers delivere par le autori- 
ties civiles?" (Have you any papers delivered by the 
civil authorities?) 

A. — "Oui. Mon Passport des Etats Unite. Vous — " 
(Yes. My United States Passport — you — ) 

Q. — "Pourquoi ne vous etes vous pas presents du 

84 



WITHOUT A CENT 

consul Americaine ? ' ' (Why did you not present your- 
self to the American Consul?) 

I wondered how they knew I hadn 't ! 

Q. — "Monsieur le maire croit vous demander de 
vouloir bien rester a sa disposition jusqu au moment 
on il aurait recu des ordres de l'autorite superieure. 
Que pensez-vous ? " (The mayor thinks he must de- 
mand that you remain at his disposition until he has 
received orders from the chief of police. What think 
you?) 

A. — "Je vous monterai mon passeport si vous le 
desires ; il est dans les baggages portes sur my bicycl- 
ette." (I will show you my Passport, if you desire to 
see it. It is in the luggage on my wheel.) 

Then they asked me a question which I did not quite 
catch. 

Q. — "Qu'est ce que ce vous dit?" (What did you 
say?) 

A. — ' ' Ah-h ! Pourquoi pronouncez vous bien le 
franeais quand le voule vous?" (Ah-h! How is it 
that you pronounce the French so well when you want 
to?") 

Q. — "Comment m'avez-vous pas d 'argent?" (How 
is it that you have no money?) 

A. — "J'avais d 'argent. Je ne pas parle j'avit ne 
pas d 'argent. Je parlais 'parti Chicago sans argent.' 
Je partais san d 'argent ! Je coudrai logement. Je 
pense payer pour le meme. Permittee me partir. " 
(I have money. I did not say I had no money. I said 
starting penniless from Chicago. I started without 
money. I wish lodging. I expect to pay for it. Let 
me go.) 

I started for the door when the taller of the two men 
laid his hand on my wheel, and said : 

"Non! Allons in le maison." (No! Go back into 
the house.) 

A boy and girl pushed their way through the crowd 
to the table, leaning against it and looking into my 
eyes. When I needed strength to carry on my case I 

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just looked into their sweet faces. They believed in 
me. So did I. I had seen the girl twice before as I 
entered the village, crossing the street with milk-pail, 
who responded politely to my salutation, with "Bon 
jour! Monsieur." An old lady, dusting the furniture 
about the room, looked at me as if she, too, knew I was 
innocent. 

The smaller of the two men, who proved to be the 
school teacher, knew a little English. 

"Allons! Suivez-vous nous." (Come, follow us.) 
The two men seemed to disagree as we walked down 
the street. The taller man rapped loudly at a big gate. 
It was the mayor's home, the several women wearing 
white caps, all of whom were most kindly disposed to 
me. 

Q. — Six arrestations have been opered and it is re- 
serched two others men, ' ' was the reply of the teacher 
why I was detained, "because this gentleman have 
killed a policemen, ' ' he tried to tell me. 
A. — So you thought I was a murderer 1 ' ' 
" So ! So ! You should have passport shown. ' ' 
"You gave me no chance to get it. You suspicion 
the stranger too eager to show his credentials. Je suis 
mon passport ! I travel on my face. I am my pass- 
port!" 

My moment of freedom seemed near as they scanned 
my passport, and still more aided when the two chil- 
dren of the court-room entered the house, coming close 
to me — the mayor 's own children ! Their truer inter- 
pretation of character is only another lesson taught 
us of children who know innocence from villainy when 
their elders are often mistaken. "While they looked 
over my passport I arose from my chair, drew aside the 
lapel of my coat, and revealed there a little silk flag, 
the Stars and Stripes ! pinned there the day I left, by 
a young woman, sixty years old, in Illinois. 

"Arrest me if you please, ' ' said I, ' ' gentlemen, when 
you trouble me you trouble my country, the United 
States of America. I am a native of Polo, Illinois, a 



WITHOUT A CENT 

citizen of that state, and I am pledged support and 
protection in every country to which I may come. In 
the morning I will cable to London, to my American 
Ambassador there, Extraordinary and Plenipotenti- 
ary, I shall not treat this affair lightly. ' ' 

The effect was electrical. They begged me to forget 
their undue haste, shook hands with me, and treated 
me as if I were the President ! Then the mayor invited 
me to sup with him, and though it was ten o'clock, 
neither I nor the two little children were hungry. 
Their appetites, like mine, had been scared away. 

The teacher then took me to his home. It was nine 
when he awoke me, the sun shining in my windows and 
the birds singing in the cherry blossoms. I followed 
him as he passed through one of the rooms filled with 
pupils at work, to the dining-room, where "dejeuner" 
was served by his wife as she ate with us — omelette, 
roast veal, bread, butter and coffee. At the close, he 
offered me the choice of chocolate, or wine. While 
sipping the bowl of rich, aromatic — chocolate ! he 
handed me a fancy box of cigars from which I refused 
to draw any, after which his young wife, to get even 
with me, made me set my feet on one of her dining- 
room chairs, while she cleaned and polished my shoes 
with her own hands. When ready to go, the entire 
village came into the square to see me off. 

At noon I took dinner at a farm-house in a landscape 
as gentle as my hosts, the soft colors of early growing 
things flecking the fertile soil. My wheel leaned 
against a great old beech that with several others, 
sheltered the humble home. Cut down now, or shot 
away by the enemy's shells, trenched and cratered, 
both home and hosts are gone ! There were four in the 
family — father, mother, daughter of sixteen, and I. 
The cow shared the west end. Then came the kitchen, 
and next the bed-room. The food was passed around 
our little table, two by four, just as we always did at 
home, and we cut our own slices of bread — white bread 
from long, slender loaves, with vegetable soup, boiled 

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potatoes, carrots, cabbage, pork, and a bitter beer which 
I only tasted. We sat close to each other at this little 
table, and no matter where the girl sat, I was close to 
her, any way — this French beauty with black, luxuri- 
ant hair, and wonderful, large eyes of some color or 
other that made me look long after I should have 
turned away. Polite and courteous, reverent and 
thoughtful, this family and others with whom I min- 
gled, lived in their homes as in the presence of God. 
There was little furniture. The stove, shining black, 
was divided into three parts. Nearly as high as our 
own hard-coal stoves, the first part was round in shape, 
and held the pot, directly over the fire. Next was the 
middle portion with lid. The third part, round and 
bigger than the others, held the water in the reservoir. 
"Women worked in the fields with the men, hoeing, 
and driving horses or cows to queer cultivators. One 
farmer, mopping his brow, as he rested from pushing 
a hand-plough, looked like the "Man with a Hoe." 
"Not at all good," said he. "Man was not made to 
slave like this. ' ' I agreed with him, and told him that 
if he lived in the great Mississippi Valley he needn't 
push a plow. He could get on and ride ! 

IN LITTLE BELGIUM 

The small fields were farmed right up to the fences, 
and there were no weeds. As in France, hardly a house 
stood alone in the country, and these were usually built 
of stone, brick or plaster. Dutch wind-mills were fre- 
quent. Horses, when used, were large, though in some 
parts these were a novelty, for dogs took their place — 
little dogs, big dogs, fat dogs, lean dogs, dogs friendly, 
and dogs savage, one, two and often five pulling at a 
wagon or at plows in the field. Sometimes a woman 
and dog, or a man and dog, pulled together. These 
dogs pulled tremendously hard at heavy loads. Some 
of the masters, inclined to be cruel, seemed to get no 
pleasure, but only profit out of the work. Four- 
wheeled wagon-loads of hay were pulled by several 



WITHOUT A CENT 

dogs at the front, several under, and still others be- 
hind the load, the ones under the wagon so hitched that 
if they hung back and failed to do their part, they were 
tortured by sharp prongs fixed in the right spot. I 
sought friendship with a big dog hitched to a milk 
wagon, but he thought I wanted to steal the milk, and 
leaped at me, nearly upsetting the wagon. On the 
Battlefield of "Waterloo I snapped a wheel-barrow with 
a dog pulling at the front, and a woman pushing 
from behind. Near it a forest had been planted 
to take the place of natural woodlands becoming ex- 
tinct. 

Late one night I was shown my bed in a big room 
filled with others already asleep. My little candle 
lighted only my own needs, and I saw no others. I 
disrobed and crawled in. Next morning I was sur- 
prised to hear feminine voices in some of the beds 
around me. The double beds held married couples, 
while children and single folks, including bachelors, 
like myself, occupied cots. I was perplexed. I hardly 
knew whether to get up first, or last. I had no kimona. 
In neither France nor Belgium did I see evidence of 
social misconduct. The Belgians were less polite, but 
more sincere, than the French. 

It is contrary to police rules for one to sleep in a 
straw-stack in Belgium. I meant to save my lodging 
expense the following night by sleeping out. About 
sunset I came to a fine straw-stack near the fence, but 
as there was a cop patroling nearby, I could not stop. 
A few miles ahead was another such stack of straw, but 
also another cop walking right by it. At the third one, 
the road was clear. I carried my wheel across the soft 
ground to this stack where a baling-press had been at 
work. So I used these bales to make my bed. I placed 
four of them in such a way so that I would have pro- 
tection from anything save "Howling Berthas," and 
on the top of these I laid two more for a roof, crawling 
in just as rain began to fall. As my roof was about 
two feet thick, it was rainproof, but when the rain 

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fell in torrents during the night, this cold water soaked 
under my bed. I was too energetic in turning over on 
my side, when the lower bales parted, letting the roof 
fall in upon me with such puddles of water as had 
collected on their spongy tops. When I became free, 
I built another bed, where, wrapped in my rubber cape, 
I fell asleep again, and when I awoke daylight had 
come. 

Bread here was twice as high as in England, and 
bakeries carried but a small stock, as if it were precious. 
Sugar also was twice as high, with only a mite on hand. 

INTO HOLLAND AT NIGHT 

Saturday evening I rode out of little Belgium into 
Holland, and then on into the night. Monotonously 
level, with few trees, but acres of water everywhere. 
Canals were full of water, rivers full of water, lakes 
full of cold, wet water, the air full of foggy water that 
splashed into your face and ran down your back until 
you were soaked with water so that you never enjoy a 
drink in Holland. "Water is around the hen-house, the 
well is running over, the pump is floating away, the 
cellars are cisterns. 

The only interesting sight was thousands of Dutch 
wind-mills. 

I rode all night, passing through scores of towns, in 
which a watchman stood on the main street, as guard. 
As he was expected to stop and inquire about everyone 
going through, I found it very annoying. So when I 
glimpsed them, as they waited my coming, I rode at 
them just as though I was about to run over them, 
turning my wheel sharply aside when close to them, 
and tramping my pedals, I was gone before they recov- 
ered consciousness. This was the only fun I had in 
Holland. Sunday morning I tried to sleep by a hay- 
stack in a town, where the water had frozen into ice. 
Holland is the mecca for skaters, where you can go 
anywhere on skates, even to bed. All forenoon families 
were afoot to and from church, wearing wooden shoes 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

and sad expressions. At noon, one of these groups, a 
father, mother and a girl, turned into the plain coun- 
try home. I turned in, too, and told them I would 
like to eat dinner with them if they would invite me 
as their guest. It was a treat to sit with the family 
in the big, bare kitchen, greater because I knew it 
would not last. The floor had been scrubbed with 
"Dutch Cleanser," as well as everything else, includ- 
ing the broom-handle. The only attraction was the 
way the girl "set" the rough-board table. She gave 
me a Dutch squint every time she went to the cup- 
board, and once she all but smiled. Black bread, hard 
and dry, little butter, some poor cheese, poor coffee, 
with sugar and milk, made the meal. Sallow and dark, 
the natives were rough in feature, with fewer pretty 
girls than in any other country. 

I looked over my money and found I had English 
shillings, French francs, Holland guilders, German 
marks, and a few American coins. Computations in 
these monies was an education in itself, and I found it 
was unsafe to trust all foreigners in giving you the 
right change. 

RIDING ALONG THE RHINE 

I spent an hour in Cologne, going through the great 
Cathedral that took six hundred years to build, then 
riding directly to the Rhine road, dotted with passing- 
steamers, the banks rising on both sides to mountain- 
ous heights, purple with vineyards and crowned by 
frowning old castles. The scenery was so wonderful 
I had no desire to stop when night came, but rode 
right on in the moonlight. It must have been 
two in the morning when I locked my wheel, and rested 
on a bench near a wayside inn high above the rapid 
river, the moon mixing purplish silver in the gurgling 
current that broke over a long series of rapids. Here 
I fell asleep, and was rudely awakened by a fellow who 
thrust a flash-light into my eyes. In the darkness I 
saw the form of another. I was asked a question in 

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German which I could not, or did not care to under- 
stand. 

' ' Haben sie gelt ! ' ' (Have you any money ?) 

I thought it was none of his business whether I had 
any money, or not, but I didn't know what to answer. 
In Germany you are arrested when caught out like this 
at night with no money. In Chicago you are "held 
up" if you have it. If I said "No," and he were a 
police, he would arrest me. If I said "Yes," and he 
were a robber, he would take it ! And that flash-light 
hurt my eyes, and biased my judgment, as I said, 
"Yaw-Nein!" (Yes-No) pretending not to understand 
his question. Then he went through my pockets, tak- 
ing out every trinket and paper he could find. I acted 
as though I liked the idea of this midnight ruffian 
fumbling me over, and I helped him to find the many 
pockets I had with me. In one pocket I carried a wal- 
let of three pounds English gold, a German sovereign, 
and some small coins saved up for boat-fare on the 
Mediterranean. Of course I didn't want him to get 
that. So I turned around, willingly, as he went 
through them, directing his movements, when at last 
we had been in every one save the "money pocket." 
So, when he was about to put his fingers into that one, 
I straightened up, as if to say : ' ' How dare you hold 
me up like this? You've gone through my pockets 
once." And I pushed his hand away. Then I showed 
him my bicycle passport, talking rapidly to confuse 
him, at which he lifted his cap, and said : 

1 ' Gude Nacht, Mein Herr ! ' ' and was off. 

Grabbing my wheel I dragged it along in the oppo- 
site direction, unlocking, and riding it rapidly away 
from the spot, fearing they might change their minds 
and come back, riding and walking until daylight, the 
panorama of the river increasing in gorgeous beauty 
at every turn. At the Lorely Hotel by the famous 
Falls sung about in Heine's lines: 

"I know not whence comes this feeling 
That I to sadness am so inclined. ' ' 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

I had my breakfast — a hot drink of something called 
' ' schnapps, ' ' that by taste surely violated my temper- 
ance pledge — then coffee and bread. When these came 
I was asleep. 

May and June had tumbled me from skies of blue 
into valleys of green. I rode up and down every hill 
along my way, over every stream — the Rhine, the 
Weser, the Oder, the Elbe, the Danube — and my lungs 
were bursting glad with fragrant air from red and 
blue and pink flowers, twenty acres of them in one 
field. I saw spring come over the mountains and 
laugh down the valleys and hug the hills, budding 
and bursting into flower and leaf, not in one country 
but in seven ! I was in Ireland when the first petals 
began to color, then in Scotland in fuller bloom, then 
in England when the warmer blushes came thick and 
fast at the May-Pole Dance, to ride over France, Bel- 
gium and Holland, with spring at my heels. I was 
looking upon human custom and human face, natural 
beauty and endless scenery, the best I ever heard of, 
read of, or dreamed. My two thousand miles on the 
bike in Germany took me through Cologne, Coblentz, 
Mayence, Frankfort-on-Main, Hamburg, Marburg, 
Cassel, Goettingen, Eisleben, Halle, Leipsic, Witten- 
burg, Potsdam, Berlin, Dresden, Chemnitz, Nuren- 
berg, Wurtenburg, Heidelberg, Karlsruhe, Strasburg 
and hundreds of towns. In the Hartz Mountains I 
sung: 

Down the circling woodland road 
My steed flies swift without a goad. 
Merrily I glide, 
In it confide, 
And all I do is look and ride. 

New-born leaves of freshness green 
Add their pride to the sylvan scene. 

I see two deer 

Who inhabit here, 
Start up and run with timid fear. 

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Through the days of Springtime grand ! 
Deep in the woods of Allemand ! 

My every day 

A holiday. 
With me the woods for pastime play. 

Of all tourists I got most out of my tour. On one 
side of the cherry-lined roadway I saw a woman 
hitched to a plow with her cow. On the other side of 
the road sixteen women and one man were hoeing side 
by side in a forty-acre field, while behind strode a 
man with a long-lashed whip. The only way to see 
these countries is by cycle or auto, the cycle being 
by far the best, and goes just fast enough for pleasure 
and profit. No other tourist had such fun as I. He 
enjoyed his wine and beer less than I liked my black- 
bread and spring water. He pretended to be rich. 
Everybody knew I was poor. People set but one 
foot to him — the best. I got both ! 

And how I coasted! Mile after mile, the rubber 
tires so soft and springy, flew without a flaw. While 
going at a terrific speed down a hazardous hill a 
gentle pressure on my New Departure put me in in- 
stant control. I had never seen those hills and I didn 't 
know what was beyond. But while the rapidly pass- 
ing scenery, unfolding in undulating panorama on 
each side, hill and valley opening to me their en- 
chanting visions, desired me to pause, the more fas- 
cinating and bewitching wonderland ahead, half -hid- 
den in the deep azure of the mountains, made my 
wheel take grade after grade as though it were a 
motor-car. So perfect the roadway, so gentle the 
swinging curve, so confident my wheel, I sat its back 
a master, my eye as calm as a placid brook. Tested 
so often, she became my confidante. Over her back 
I "threw the lines" and let her leap and plunge and 
sing for very joy, the breeze bruising my face as I shot 
through the artificial hurricane and up and around 
the oth'ir hill, so intoxicated with the delight of going 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

fast that, like good wine, wants more as more is taken. 
The excitement of coasting a jumble of hills, with 
rapid glance of ever-changing scene about you and 
soft skies above you, with the wicked charm of shoot- 
ing through and splitting the air in two — air thick 
with perfume — is the most delightfully exciting of all 
adventure. Mighty mountains melted into mole-hills, 
oceans became lakes, and as I shivered in the bed of 
forest leaves, the cold night rain dripping, the wolves 
barking, an irresistible purpose possessed me. I knew 
I would be victorious ! 

I rested in Luther's chair, sat in the window where 
he and his devoted wife used to make love after mar- 
riage as others court before. The last two days into 
Berlin I rode two hundred and twelve miles, the fast- 
est of my tour, visiting several universities and other 
sights en route. Pushing my wheel down the streets 
of Berlin a man approached, who said that he was a 
London banker, and gave me a twenty-mark gold- 
piece, telling me to go to police headquarters and reg- 
ister, which I did, telling my name, origination, in- 
clination and destination, a street number being given 
me where I could get lodging. I think he was a Ger- 
man spy, but the gold was all right. The next day I 
rode Unter den Linden, saw the Palace, the Art 
Gallery and the class-rooms of Von Humboldt, Schler- 
macher, Neander and Mommsen, where ten thousand 
students were finishing their education. I did not like 
flat Berlin and took the road again that same after- 
noon, making a bed at night in an artificial forest amid 
clumps of bushes so that I might be defended as I 
slept from an attack of animals roaming the wilds. 
There were no happy farm-houses along the way, for 
the farmers lived in towns. The next day I stood by 
the "Madonna," by Raphael, in Dresden, and at the 
lodging-house met a real one in flesh and blood — a 
poor working girl, whose exceeding fair skin and 
blue eyes attracted attention as she washed dishes or 
made the beds. 

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I visited village schools as I rode along, in one of 
which the "lehrer" assured me he had seventy grades. 
After taking me through twenty of them he left me 
in charge while he went to market. I taught the 
class in "Reading," the boys and girls rising at their 
seat and reading to a period, when another would take 
the next sentence. I was helping a pretty girl in 
the penmanship class by putting my hand over her 
wee hand to help guide her pen, when the "lehrer" 
entered. These teachers were friends of the pupils, 
unlike the university professors, who entered the 
class-room with eyes at the ceiling, paying no atten- 
tion to the students before them, either then or during 
the lecture. The pupils were very reverent, serious 
and obedient. On entering their room as a visitor 
they usually arose and repeated a verse of scripture, 
doing the same when I left them. 

Locked Up for Refusing Drink 
One rainy Saturday night I paid for lodging in 
advance at the only hotel in a village, and seated 
myself in the barroom, the only place provided for 
guests, where some youths were taking their social 
glass of beer. Wet from drizzly rain, depressed by 
hunger, homesick, I was in no condition for what 
was about to follow. Everywhere I was offered beer, 
but no one seemed to think I ever got hungry. So I 
lived on the plainest fare, black-bread usually being 
my only food on the road. Hotels in Germany were 
usually saloons, where every lodger is expected to 
contribute to the bar, men, women and little children 
drinking beer here, each with a big schooner before 
him, the babe at the breast having its sip at the 
mother's glass. That they might understand me, I 
showed the landlord my card introducing me as the 
long-distance rider around the world, telling him I 
was a temperance man, and could use alcohol only as 
medicine. But he was peeved. Then a young German 
set his own half glass down on the table before me, 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

begging me to take sip after sip with Mm, after the 
German custom of friendliness. I tried to tell him 
why I could not taste it, thanking him. Puzzled at 
my German and bewildered at my refusal, he colored 
deeply, supposing he had offended. He called for a 
second glass and paid for it as the landlord set it down 
before me. Again I refused, trying to explain. The 
redness in the German's face increased. He ordered 
a third drink. Believing this were a temperance drink 
I raised it to my lips, but alas ! the odor of alcohol ! 
The poor fellow was in torment as he digged down 
for another and more valuable coin to pay for a third 
glass of something from a bottle high behind the bar — 
champagne, the best, used only for royalty. 

The room was silent. The drinkers paused between 
swallows. All eyes were upon these glasses and me, 
The drinks looked so good, and I felt so bad, any one 
of them would have been good medicine to me, and by 
drinking one of them I might win back the landlord's 
favor, at whose mercy I was for meals and lodging. 
But I set the four glasses of drink away from me. In 
complete confusion the German gulped down the 
remaining beer in his own glass and staggered back to 
his fellows. 

I had a desire to rush out into the night and rain 
and ride away. But I needed nourishment, and I 
would probably have been seized by the village cop 
just then looking in at the window. When ten o 'clock 
came the landlord closed up, set my wheel behind the 
bar and called roughly to me : 

"Commen sie!" 

Thinking I was at last to have my supper, I hurried 
to him as he led the way through the milk-hall, where 
big pans of creamy milk were set upon the cement 
floor. Then through the kitchen he took me and out 
of the back door to the end of the walled yard to a sort 
of barn, where, opening the door, he pushed me in, 
saying I should sleep there, and closing the door and 
locking it before I knew where I was. I felt around 

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a little in the darkness to assure myself I was not 
sharing my "room" with a billy-goat or a savage 
hund, finding a pile of hay on which I soon fell asleep. 

In the morning it was still raining. It must have 
been about nine when I hammered at the door and 
called for my ' 'jailer. ' ' Though I heard voices, no one 
came. About noon, assured of his intentions, I began 
to seek a way out. With a mattock hidden under some 
straw I pried off a plank and crawled through into 
another room, and from there to the next floor, where 
I took off another timber, and crawled into the 
chicken apartment. There was little commotion 
among the fowls, and I worked rapidly, soon having 
my head and one shoulder out through the small open- 
ing in the side of the barn used by them, from which 
a slender timber with slats at intervals ran to the 
ground. For some minutes I could not move either in 
or out, and the desperate effort to free myself sent the 
blood to my face and neck as I worked out and down 
to the ground. In the rain, without supper, breakfast 
or dinner, I rode away. 

Many miles from here I hired out to a farmer in a 
village of one hundred houses and fourteen hundred 
people, near Neurenburg, at a mark a day. My room 
was over the cow-stable and pig-parlor. My cover was 
a fat featherbed that always rolled off before morning. 

I was called up at four, to chore around, cut grass, 
and feed swine, with the hired girl. When the chores 
were nearly done she went to the house to get break- 
fast, and in a little while called out : ' ' Kaffee Gekom- 
men ! ' ' Then the hired boy would say tome:" Kaffee 
Gekommen, wir haben kaffee augenblick. " At a little 
board table in this Gast-Haus we sat, while the family 
ate in the kitchen at a better table. Black coffee we 
got, with no sugar and less cream, and one solitary 
bun. 

Then with hoes in our hands we went to the edge of 
town and hilled up hops that wound around tall stakes 
and over flat roofs of slender boards and wires. The 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

men worked so fast I was tired in a few minutes, but 
they did not seem to notice it, and kept on as if rac- 
ing. At nine-thirty one of the girls working with us 
went to the house and brought our second excuse for 
a meal — rye bread, salt pork, and seven schooners of 
beer. Beer never looked so tempting, but I refused it, 
and demanded milk instead, the men laughing at me, 
and saying: "Meelk ist fer pabies. Bee'er vill make 
du strength." 

At twelve we went into the house for ' ' mittagessen, ' ' 
with no knives or forks, but a wooden spoon to pour 
down the soup that was served in a wash-basin, with 
boiled spuds and rye bread. At four the first supper 
came — black bread, stink-cheese, six schooners of beer 
and one schooner of milk. My back ached and my 
hands blistered, but I hung on until sundown when 
we did the chores, and sat down to our fifth excuse 
for a meal — the wash-basin of camouflage soup — hot 
water in which red pepper had been thrown, and some 
stale rye bread floating around like gun-boats. 

On the second day, while hoeing potatoes, the men 
worked more slowly, and before the end of the third, 
they fell behind me, as I was beginning to find my 
strength. I called to them to come on when they put 
me in the lead, and they seemed to think that the milk 
diet had triumphed. I was paid one dollar and forty- 
four cents as my wages for the entire week of sixteen- 
hour days and starvation meals. 

A German Wedding 
From the choir-loft in a village church, after a ser- 
mon for the occasion on the text : ' ' Whatsoever he saith 
unto you, do it," I saw a wedding. The bride and 
groom, each on different sides of the church, seated 
with their respective friends, then arose, walked out 
to the center aisle, where they joined each other, and 
on reaching the pulpit knelt before it, the pastor join- 
ing their hands, when more scripture was read and a 
prayer offered. Then they walked down the aisle to- 

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AROUND THE WORLD 

gether, separating where they had met, each sitting 
apart, as before. A hymn was sung, and an offering 
taken, which amounted to seventy-five cents. Some 
cried. The entire marriage party then left the church, 
the groom with the men, the bride with the women, 
and all marched down the street to the bride's home, 
where they ate and drank all day and night, the pastor 
not present. His time came the next day when the 
bridal party surprised him at his own home with pres- 
ents and money. 

A German Funeral 

I saw an impressive funeral of a little child, from a 
Catholic church, at about sunset of a beautiful day. 
Leading the procession were little children bearing the 
cross and banners, then came the little coffin on the 
head of a woman, followed by the priests, and behind 
these, men and women. The procession moved down 
a winding lane at the edge of town, and then by a nar- 
row footpath leading through a tall rye field that 
bowed gracefully as they passed, to the cemetery, where 
three spades of dirt were thrown upon the grave by 
the priests and mourners, when water was sprinkled 
over the same and upon the people, after which every 
one left for their homes except the mother of the dead 
child, who stood alone by the grave and wept — just as 
the deep red sun sank into the calm fields. 

Diary Jottings 
German guide-posts, like American barber-poles, the 
name of town you are going to on the other side, so that 
you must look back after you pass it. Roofs of bright 
red tile everywhere. Postage stamps bought in one 
part of Germany not good in another. German uni- 
versities overestimated. Drinking beer and duelling 
chief theme. Girls treated to schooner of beer at the 
bar after each dance, till three in the morning, when 
they are hugged at the door, each going home alone to 
avoid misconduct. No "courting" in Germany. When 

100 



GERMANY AND SWITZERLAND 










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WITHOUT A CENT 

lover calls he talks to her mother. Young people 
seldom ride together or walk together, unless impure. 
Berlin said to have more illegitimate children than 
Paris. 

In the Black Forest 

The grand prelude to Switzerland from Germany is 
the Schwartzwald or Black Forest, its entrance at the 
north being Biberach, where I spent the week-end in 
the Mayor's home, with three grown daughters and a 
son. Thrice elected as mayor of his town for a term 
of ten years each, I counted it an honor to spend some 
time in the presence of such a father. The first day I 
was told the time of meals. The next morning, Sun- 
day, I slept late, and when I came down dishes had 
been put away, so I waited till noon. The father was 
head of the house, but needed not to say so. He came 
and went quietly, and read much. He seldom spoke. 
He had self-control. 

Monday afternoon I began my last ride in Deutch- 
land over roads prettier and smoother than boulevards, 
where queer, all-roof houses were hitched up to barns, 
and rested contentedly anywhere on the side of the 
hill, where water ripples everywhere in constant mel- 
ody, every home having its water-wheel, always run- 
ning, doing everything except bring the cows. Tryberg 
hangs on a silver peg of splashing water at the near 
top of a mountain you can hardly climb. The water- 
fall runs right down through the town at its own pleas- 
ure, generating a force that sets a trio of wheels run- 
ning that turn the machinery for making the famous 
"cuckoo" clocks that imitate exactly the birds that I 
often heard as I rode along. Looking across from the 
waterfall the mountain express, like some magic mon- 
ster, bursts suddenly from a tunnel and shoots among 
the dark pines like a hissing serpent, the eager tourists 
looking from windows as excited as you at the inde- 
scribable grandeur. 

A little curly dog in this forest liked my idea of rid- 
ing around the Globe, and left his master to join me, 

103 



AROUND THE WORLD 

running by my wheel in great glee through several 
villages. He knew I liked dogs and understood them, 
for his soft round eyes took me into his confidence. To 
keep up, he ran at the top of his speed, but I knew it 
would be impossible for him to follow me all day on 
rapid rides. I frowned and scolded, but he still ran 
farther ahead, looking back to see me catching up. 
Then I threw him some food I carried, trying to slip 
away as he ate it. With beef and bread held in his 
mouth he caught up with me and ran on ahead of me. 
He was already miles from his home when I dis- 
mounted, caught him, started him backward, and threw 
a stone that struck and tripped him, hurting me more 
than it hurt my confiding friend, when he cried in 
pain, stopped short, and then, when I set out again, 
bounced after me, crying piteously to be taken along, 
when I threw another stone. 

Then back he ran and stopped and stayed, 

And looked with doggie 's woe, 
While I rode on, a sadder man 

Than ere a dog could be. 

WHEELING IN THE ALPS 

The first thing you do in Switzerland is to arrive. 
You know at once you are here without being told. It 
is the spot where you always wanted to be. At Inter- 
laken, the center from which to make many mountain 
climbs, I lived at the Grand Hotel des Alpes for three 
days, where mountain fountain sprayed in the sun- 
light over grass and flower, with glimpses of fairy- 
land. When the polite Swiss waiter passes you the 
mountain honey you take more than you did the 
first time. The steak is juicier, the trout more snappy, 
than you ever tasted before, and you can eat a pound 
of their cheese at the end of your meal. The chil- 
dren on their way to a mountain picnic are prettier 
and neater than those of other European lands, and 
the drummer boy follows the Helvetian flag with a 

104 



WITHOUT A CENT 

swagger only equalled by a doughboy behind the 
Stars and Stripes ! 

A glance through this idyllic beauty is awarded by 
a still richer panorama of green valleys and snow- 
kissed mountains. Every one admires Jungfrau, 
Queen of the Alps, visible from the Hotel, looking 
out upon the valley from behind surrounding peaks, 
shrinking away in modesty to reveal the chaste bosom 
and illuminated brow of their virgin queen to de- 
lighted thousands of adoring tourists gathered in 
nature's loveliest auditorium. Delicately draped in 
a thin veil of purple atmosphere, overhung and sur- 
rounded by Heaven's royal blue, the small but en- 
chanting hills of emerald pose in the foreground that 
she may tower above them in all the splendor of 
bridal majesty. 

In this enchanted nook I paused, with no business 
or social obligations to keep, my days of grace payable 
at sight in their own good coin. The girl I hoped to 
find might wait for me, or choose another. In Time's 
ripeness I would meet mine ! Now I was here. Here^ 
by the peasant's door, bright colored flowers bloomed. 
There blizzards broke in tangled fury and hurricanes 
prowled abroad. 

Rivalling Interlaken is Lucerne, its first attraction 
the Lake, twenty-six miles long and a thousand feet 
deep, right on the beach of which it rests like a 
shimmering jewel. The next great sight is Mount 
Pilatus where I rested from my wheel by a ride on 
the cog railway, sleeping that night in a peasant's 
shack on the summit, that threatened, like the car, to 
pitch headlong down the mountain. 

I rode the Axenstrasse, one of the finest roadways, 
as it hugs the lake and hangs from the mountain. 
On all sides rise the mountains, some naked, others 
dressed in pleasing green or shrouded in veils of mist 
and snow, with pride upon their lofty brows as they 
look down to see themselves pictured in the clear 
water at their feet, the wrinkles of their old age and 

105 



AROUND THE WORLD 

the harsh ruggedness of their masculine might 
softened by the mellow illusion. Slowly we ascended 
this masterpiece of engineering cut from the solid 
granite walls pointing into the zenith. Ahead was 
the chambered gallery like a gorgeous box at Nature's 
theatre where we found shelter from a passing storm. 
The road ascends very rapidly now, affording 
grander and more wonderful vistas. Half a mile 
from the Pass a snowfield blocked my way, while I 
cautiously advanced a foot, with all the terror of a 
possible snowslide started at any second by my own 
footsteps. At the very top a little auto bearing a 
honeymoon party from Algiers, met its Waterloo, and 
had to return to the Italian side. My way back to 
my wheel was not so easy as my way up. The snow 
by this time was melting, and under me were running 
streams that only Alpine climbers know how to fear, 
to fall through into any one of which meant certain 
death. I made great strides to my wheel, where on 
top of a big rock high and safe from the snow-field, I 
sung to an Alpine flower found nearby in the icy 
snow-water, as I took it to my heart : 

To An Alpine Flower 

Sweet flower, Sweet flower, 

That sweetly grows, That silent blooms, 

Here in the snow, Here in the Alps 

Unseen, Alone ; 

I breathe with thee, I dream by thee, 

And breathing, And dreaming, 

Wish that I were thee, Wish that I were thee, 
In height, In grace, 

And place, And form, 

In this blue sky to live In silent majesty God's 
serene. own. 

There is more geology in one hundred square feet 
of Alps than a college text-book could hold. Millions 
of years ago these strata were laid down under water, 
then by earthquake, heat and pressure, were broken 

106 



WITHOUT A CENT 

and bent, flattened, crunched in giant grip, once 
more to be petted back into life, for a million years 
or so, when the same demoniac fury again awoke as 
with one tremendous blast it smote these twisted 
layers of vari-colored rock, bore them aloft in 
Titan fist, whirled them about its shaggy head, de- 
stroying once more the animal and plant life it had 
invited into being. Here are the "folds," with 
"faults," "dykes," and "basins," "shears," 
"clines, " "anticlines," " antisynclines, " and "geo- 
synclines, ' ' where the Leaves of the Book of Life are 
made, a million years apart ! 

Late at night I climbed the mountain opposite 
Simplon Pass, to study the next day the most thrilling 
of all glaciers — the Aletsch. Without waiting for 
breakfast I rushed out to take my first excited view 
of a real glacier at close view. On the other side of 
the valley rose the audacious Matterhorn, chilly white 
in cold chastity. Below, the flashing glacier, soon 
aglitter with diamonds in the flashing sun. I thought 
I could reach it in ten minutes, but it was miles rather 
than yards. I knew that glaciers moved, like a river, 
only much slower, about ten to twelve inches a day, 
and I confess I was afraid of it. It seemed to me 
that it was some terrible monster with self-conscious- 
ness, and I don't believe that anyone can view, from 
a good position, at close range, this or any other 
glacier without a unique experience in emotion. The 
air coming up from it is very cold. But when you get 
right up to it, and you actually see it move, growling 
and grumbling like a fettered giant, crushing great 
blocks of granite in its path, polishing the red sand- 
stone of the mountain wall by unmeasured force of 
friction, and bearing on its back whole trainloads of 
rocks to be dumped at the Terminal Moraine, the 
melting water gurgling its frightful way down 
through gaping fissures, or flinging its greenish flood 
over precipice and peak — this solid stream of ice, 
miles in length, and hundreds and thousands of feet 

107 



AROUND THE WORLD 

deep — you need the latest dictionary of words and 
ideas to help you tell a fractional part of your feel- 
ings. 

What looked safe and smooth at a distance now 
revealed yawning chasms scaled only by ladders and 
ropes with strong guides. Tourists are tied together, 
about fifteen feet apart, to the same long rope, at the 
end of which is a Swiss guide with cool head and sure 
foot. Cigarette smokers are barred from these 
heights. A young smoker had been warned, but he 
persisted in being tied up with his companions. The 
two brave guides belted the rope around them, while 
two other tourists were tied in between them and the 
foolish fellow. As they neared the top, he grew dizzy 
on a ledge of rock, and before the guides could brace 
themselves, fell, headlong, dragging with him his two 
friends and skillful guides to death together at the 
bottom of the ice-filled gorge ! 

One early evening in July I rode a fascinating moun- 
tain path hung with wild scramble of foliage that 
brushed my face and perfumed my nostrils, into a nar- 
row valley that abruptly came together at the upper 
end where a wooden hotel squatted right at the foot of 
great overhanging rocks full of leafy trees and bunches 
of fern. From here the corkscrew path led in dizzy, 
vertical spirals, up past the roof of the hotel, and on 
until it was lost in the clouds — up to the dreaded 
Pas de la Gemmi, and beyond, to the Sea-of-Death 
Glacier. 

Tourists were coming and going. The clatter of 
Alpine shoes and alpenstock told the eagerness of 
experienced mountaineers — tourists filling the dili- 
gence for down the valley, and others being shown 
their rooms in the quaint hostelry, in great anticipa- 
tion of their climb on the morrow to the wildest Pass 
in the Alps. The smell of mountain pine and laurel, 
spruce and fir, was in the house. Wild sweetness, on 
cool currents of air, streamed in at the open windows. 
From my room I looked down on the descending 

108 



WITHOUT A CENT 

valley where the mountain brook raved and tore, as 
if to say : "Ha ! Ha ! write me down, if you dare, you 
world tourist. Describe my scampers in these dells, 
if you can, but leave me to myself, mad with the 
passion of flinging myself headlong from rock to 
rock." 

Ever been on a vacation ? Ever taken to your room 
in a wonderful part of the world? The porter has 
set down your luggage, and seen that you have water 
and towels. As soon as he leaves, you look around, 
or you throw yourself on the soft bed. Then you go 
and look out of the window. Then you wash your 
hands and look out of the window again. Then you 
sit in the window, and look up and down. You don't 
intend to jump out during the night, or run away 
with the bed, but you want to see things, from your 
window. The waterfall sends up misty spray of 
vapor that adds to the coolness of the high altitude, 
and the odor of decaying leaves is pleasant. The 
big, rough beams in the ceiling, the big rocking-chair, 
the pictures of fine scenery on the walls, make you 
smile and feel at home. Others are coming and going. 
Some of these you have met in another part of the 
Alps. The hum of animated conversation on the big 
piazza reaches your ear. Odors of steak and fresh- 
ground coffee mixing with the delicious tang of nour- 
ishing dishes of the Swiss chef, float up to your room 
and tell you to join other tourists in the Dining 
Hall. 

Early next morning I pushed my wheel up the 
steepest path to the most frightful Pass in my climb- 
ing, where at times it was almost impossible to go on. 
Up and up, around and around, in and out, now on 
frail platforms out over the abyss, now on a path cut 
from the vertical rocks, with railings too trifling for 
safety, while furzy trees in the valley dropped lower 
and lower, I crawled, my heart beating fast from the 
pure glee of climbing. When I reached the gloomy 
Dauben Lake Inn lying half -upset in a desolate snow- 

109 



AROUND THE WORLD 

covered sink some miles back from the vertical climb. 
I was served mutton that rivalled, in wild, gamey 
flavor, that of Wales. Then I hurried on, for the 
Pass is broad, the weather fickle. In spots the snow 
was five feet deep, and the path had not been cleared 
of the recent storm. A monk, astride a mountain 
sledge drawn by an old mule, was slowly moving 
towards me. Soon the mule began to wabble in the 
deep snow, then floundered flat right in front of me. 
I worked my way to his side, and lifted him on his 
crooked, shaky legs, the poor fellow trying to shake 
the snow from his body, and to wag his stumpy tail 
at the same time, in gratitude, with a look of shame 
at his awkardness. Behind him, the fat monk, help- 
less as a hedge-hog, grinned as he smoked on his ex- 
cuse for a sled. 

At last, ahead of me, right at the very edge of the 
most fearful looking precipice, with ugly scarred 
peaks thrusting their bony arms into the clear blue, 
was the Wildstrubel Hotel, savagely alone, while 
over it, white and terrible, in celestial shroud of purest 
snow, gleamed, miles away, the Bernese Oberland in 
appalling panorama. The hotel sets uneasy on a jag 
of rock that flies away precipitously for sixteen hun- 
dred feet, stopping down there, for want of more 
material. You shudder a new kind of shudder just 
to lean over and try to look down, and few tourists 
can do it. For pure wildness the scene here is prob- 
ably unsurpassed on all the globe. On one side 
a half mile of atmosphere ; on the other, bleak, snow- 
checked rocks with pitfalls no trained climber would 
care to venture over after dark. Back from the hotel, 
at an acute angle with the Dauben path, was an un- 
certain path that lost its way towards the Death- 
Glacier, lying a few miles up. The snow-storm had 
not reached this rocky barrier, though the frail flowers 
struggling in the rocks longed for a more hospitable 
world, doing their utmost to hold up their pitiful 
bleached stems and faint-scented petals to make the 

no 



WITHOUT A CENT 

tourist feel less afraid amid the haggard features, 
as they clustered near each other for protection. 

I set out, with camera and alpenstock, for the lower 
end of the Glacier, soon having to pick my own path 
along the glacial bed where the erosion of centuries 
had carved great fissures, and chiselled horrid cavi- 
ties in the flintlike rock down which poured streams 
of ice-cold water — a furrowed plain honey-combed 
with bottomless pits. With daylight and fair skies 
I could find my way back over these subterranean 
wells along the distorted backbone of the flattened 
crest. I had not planned for the blizzard brewing 
to the west and already gathering over the glacier 
itself. 

I came upon two Germans from Strasburg who 
joined me. For a mile or so we scrambled over 
boulders and around sharp-edged cavities, crossing 
and following a turbulent stream rushing deep down 
its age-worn channel, to reach a wide, smooth lay of 
rock where half a dozen little gullies ran over the 
smooth glacial bed after being churned by the speed 
and roughness into green-tinted foam. From the 
main valley we dipped into a smaller one with a good 
sized stream that lost itself abruptly in the sand, or 
pouring headlong down the jagged, throats of the 
larger fissures, choked with guttural pain to free it- 
self. Big flakes of snow now fell as we began to scale 
a cliff leading off toward the terminal moraine of the 
glacier. Calling out their "Adieu" my companions 
turned back, hurrying towards the hotel. I pushed 
forward the more rapidly, hoping to reach if not ex- 
plore the lowest point of the glacier, which I believed 
lay just behind another ridge, ignoring the rapid fall 
of temperature with the rising wind, and hoping to 
tell my story after supper around the fireplace to 
astonished tourists from several continents. 

To my back I strapped my camera, using both 
hands to climb the slippery slope of a portion of 
mountain that possibly none other had tried. Hill 



AROUND THE WORLD 

after hill, crag after crag arose in my way. No 
sooner did I scale one wall when another, and 
another, steeper and higher, confronted me. Strange 
looking peaks leered on both sides. Unexpected 
gorges opened. Gushing gullies blocked my way. 

At last I reached a foothold on a dizzy shelf where 
by juking and peering into the blinding snow I caught 
a glimpse of the ice of the glacier where the big rifta 
prevented the snow from collecting. Still contend- 
ing with wall and weather I wormed up a second shelf, 
clinging long enough to see the backbone of the 
medial moraine as from beneath this sea of ice a 
boisterous flood gushed forth and smashed its muddy 
spray over boulders lying where they fell from the 
back of the monster. The very danger rivetted me 
to the scene until my hand slipped, and I dropped 
back to the lower scarf. 

Unable to force a short-cut I tried successively 
three different ascents, each time finding my hard 
climbing over the slippery rock had been in vain. 
Then I sought a way around the ledge by hugging 
the vertical wall and "toeing" its weathered base to 
a break in the outcropping where I swung myself 
above only to find another trap. Darkness was com- 
ing prematurely. The snow was blinding. I had no 
time to lose. 

So I let myself down much as I had gone up, hand 
under hand, until I reached and held to the lower 
shelf where my feet vainly sought a landing. Dan- 
gling in mid-air I lost my hold and dropped — some 
twenty feet, landing head foremost, rolling and 
somersaulting into a bank of old snow below which I 
heard the roar of water. To escape this I held to the 
side of the wall, pulling off handfuls of rotten shale 
until I reached an escarpment below me, where by the 
aid of my alpenstock I swung myself to the other 
side of the projecting edge. 

My tracks had been snowed shut, but as the direc- 
tion was mostly downwards I hurried along the 

112 



SWITZERLAND AND ITALY 




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Geological Strata 



ITALY 




WITHOUT A CENT 

stream that now had emerged from the snow, knowing 
that it emptied somewhere lower in the valley. Time 
and again I came to the brink of a precipice too steep 
to try, only to turn back and go over the same dangers 
again, seeking a way down. 

I decided to stay. From stones lying about I built 
a shelter, cleared out the snow, capped it with the 
flattest rocks I could find, gathered my coat about 
me and crawled in, to await daylight and good 
weather. The wind died down, but the snow fell 
heavier. Zero weather was coming. The drowsy 
sensation of sleep fell upon me. But by morning I 
would be snowed in, with the danger from avalanches 
covering me, and while I slept I might freeze to 
death, to say nothing of wild animals. So I gave 
up my lodge of rocks and set out again for the hotel. 
Then I came to the second valley which I remembered, 
picking my way around the glacier wells, stumbling 
into some of them, and reaching the lower bluff on 
the other side of which I expected to find the deep- 
flowing stream which I had crossed by a log high 
up from the rushing flood. On my hands and knees 
I crawled, aided by the alpenstock, up the snowy 
side to the slippery top when to my joy I 
saw the log not very far to the side, over 
which I straddled, and after a few more strides 
saw the faint ray of a light which I followed, to 
the hotel. 

Most of the guests had retired. In the hall were 
the long rows of shoes awaiting the porter's cleaning, 
and in the dining-room the landlady, awaiting my 
coming at this midnight hour to give me a big pair 
of frowsy slippers in exchange for my wet shoes, and 
to serve me hot ribble-soup, roast beef, and cherry 
dessert, as I told of my climb. She was contemplating 
making up a party of guides with St. Bernards to 
search the mountains for me. 

Two days later I descended by a path-stairway even 
more dangerous than the one I had ascended on the 

115 



AROUND THE WORLD 

other side, having to lock one of the wheels so as to 
act as a brake as I brought the bike down with 
me. 

I was now ready to leave a country where graft 
was unknown, where public servants were controlled 
by wholesome checks ; where income taxes are graded 
with regard to surplus sums ; where school books, 
pencils and paper are free ; where you may send a 
barrel of salt or a load of hay by mail ; a telegram for 
six cents, through the post office; ride comfortable 
trains night and day for a week for less than it costs 
to go from Chicago to St. Louis ; where your baggage 
is handled carefully and sent ahead, if you desire ; 
where everything is done to benefit all the people — 
railroads, telegraphs, telephones owned and operated 
by them. 

On the seventeenth of July I climbed the great St. 
Bernard Pass, looking down as I ascended, upon green 
meadows in which quiet-eyed kine grazed, and upon 
hundreds of gleaming little wheat fields that goldened 
in the evening sun as it flooded the warm valley of 
the Rhone and hastened the wheat for the sickle. 
There is no rural beauty comparable to an Alpine 
sylvan scene when viewed from a lofty eminence in 
fair weather at sunset. Big St. Bernards came down 
the mountain side to greet me and to lend assistance 
if needed, leading me to the guest-door of the Hospice, 
where a monk received me, assigning me Room No. 21 
with the picture of George Washington on the wall. 
Wine was passed, and as is customary, each guest 
poured for the other. I turned my glass upside down 
and declined to put the wine to my brother's lips. 
One of the guests had refilled his glass several times, 
imbibing rather freely of the food and drink freely 
furnished. Filling my glass with cold water I held 
it up: 

"God made this; it is better than your wine." 

"Man made this!" he replied, holding his wine 
aloft. 

116 



WITHOUT A CENT 

"No!" I replied, "not man, but le diable!" when 
the guests laughed at the man sousing himself. 

COASTING INTO ITALY 

With my feet upon the coaster brake I began to 
glide into Italy, when, passing through a mass of 
clouds, two army officers of the Alpine Guard ordered 
me to halt. Satisfied I was only a tourist they waved 
me from other armed men hiding in the rocks and 
allowed me to proceed. 

How I did turn curves and bounce and leap ! What 
silvery roads o'erhung with verdant suggestions of 
sunny Italy! The scenery was of the most wildly 
romantic, changing from the grand into the awful, 
dissolving at every turn into astonishing vistas. My 
only care was to watch the sharp curves and steer 
across the narrow bridges, and ride, balancing on 
my steed and filling my swelling chest with samples 
of a dozen different atmospheres, at first cool and 
rare, then warm and fragrant, soft with the gentlest 
touch of sweet-whispering valley-born winds. Below 
me a thundering stream broke into rapids or churned 
its greenish flood into spasms of terror as its great 
force thrashed the gray rocks far below its deep 
banks ! 

Though only twenty minutes from Switzerland the 
scene had changed. No longer did pretty children 
smile or wave dimpled hands, and none lifted their 
cap, as they did in Tell's land, the little, hard, dark 
eyes in contrast to the big blue of the thrifty Swiss. 
Beggars at the side of the road held out dirty little 
tins for coppers. 

Farms were little, with fences of wood, wire, hedge 
and stone. Towns were littered with filth, with few 
lawns, and dirty houses of stone and mortar, while 
cows bawled about the streets stealing fruit from 
hucksters' carts, the women gathering their offal 
with their bare hands, then with basket upon their 
heads they'd wabble down the street threatening to 

117 



AROUND THE WORLD 

collide with you and douse you with what was meant 
for the garden. The shops were small, untidy and 
unclean. Calico was sold over the same counter with 
chocolate, and postage stamps with cigars, cookies at 
the harness shop. The proprietor, usually a woman, 
sits outside knitting. If you wait long enough she 
may come in and get what you want, if she has it, 
which is seldom. At the hotels bread was served me 
in slender sticks, three feet long, and about as thick 
as a pencil. Soups were good and also the new dishes 
fried in butter and flavored with mints. 

The Italian lakes nestle like well-bred kittens in 
the lower lap of the rosey-hued Alps. I boarded the 
graceful little boat at Arona to enjoy one of the 
sweetest pleasure-trips of my tour, on Lake Maggiore, 
the largest, as its name suggests, of the three — Mag- 
giore, Lugano, and Como. While sailing in and out 
of the sweeping bays, enchanted by an ever-changing 
pageant of magic tinted water, bluest of skies and 
fairest of mountains, through some deep gorge of 
which gleamed in the distance the snow-mantled 
Alps, I extemporized: 

Maggiore, sweet Italian ! 

Glassy blue and dimpled green, 
Softly straying 'mong the mountains, 

Come, and be my sunny Queen! 
Maggiore, gentle maiden ! 

Love not others far away, 
I am dreaming on thy bosom, 

In thy charming lap I lay. 
Maggiore, sky-loved water ! 

Play not truant with thy grace ; 
I will take thee with me ever, 

I will always see thy face. 
Maggiore, sun-kissed Maggie ! 

Break not soon my spell of thee, 
Keep my thoughts with thee, forever. 

Lover true I'll ever be. 

118 



WITHOUT A CENT 

And while lying in the lap of this pretty Italian 
girl — I mean lake, I read from a newspaper in Italian : 
"Le Pape Morte!" (The Pope is dead.) The public 
funeral was to be held in St. Peters at Rome. So, 
at the very next landing I said farewell to the Cap- 
tain, whose guest I was, and left the boat. 

At sunset I reached the picturesque beach of Como 
where the glorious charm of calm beauty spread her 
poised wing as I stood in rapture. Before me a giant 
opal, set in amethyst, sapphire and emerald. Each 
wooing breeze that kissed her dimpled cheek lay 
where it touched, forgetful of its mission from yonder 
cloud-wreathed purple peak, drowned by its own 
ecstasy in the mirrored resplendence of a thousand 
hues. 

I reached Milan at midnight where I rested on a 
bench until dawn, by the Cathedral. The longer I 
looked the greater and whiter it grew. Tremendous 
is its size, bewildering are its intricate embellishments. 
The daring originality of its flying buttresses compels 
the attention of architect and tourist alike. Beaten 
by thousands of storms, eroded at the joints by 
weathering, its graceful sweep in curve preserves in- 
tact the harmony that was first in the mind of the 
builder, the foundation of which was begun one hun- 
dred and six years before Columbus sailed. It is a 
cathedral with ninety-eight pinnacles and two thou- 
sand spires, each crowned by heroic sized statues 
keeping their silent vigil over the city throughout the 
centuries. As the first rays of the sun kissed with 
gold the needle peaks of this mountain 6i marble it 
was more like a dream than a reality. 

The air was balmy at Genoa, and I threw myself 
upon one of the iron benches in a little park where 
there was a statue of Columbus, when another bum — 
I mean another man, pretended to be asleep on 
another bench opposite me, but who watching me 
closely meant to rob me when I fell asleep. So I 
stood up, with Columbus — my friend globe-trotter — 

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lighted my lamp and rode about this tropical city. 
Loads of swells were coming home from soirees. 
Some were dressed, and some were undressed — I mean 
some were in their evening dress. At a shop a baker 
was mixing his dough in a vat in the window. Bare- 
foot, he rolled high his trousers, jumped in upon it, 
then seizing an overhead strap with both hands he 
held on while pummeling the dough with his feet, 
working his toes back and forth to remove the surplus. 
At dawn I rode the Riviera along the Mediterranean, 
with breakfast at a fashionable resort where I hoped 
they baked their own bread. The air was scented 
with vanilla, the water from wells tasted of it, and 
soon my clothes and kerchief were flavored with it — 
as I rode through vanilla orchards. 

Suddenly, ahead of me some miles, I saw a big tower 
in the act of falling, but to my surprise it did not go 
down, but just hung there, half over. Then I recalled 
the Leaning Tower of Pisa and I was in that very 
neighborhood ! When I walked under it I hurried 
through, for it surely did look as if it meant to come 
on down. Then I went into the historic church where 
the swinging of the bronze lamp suggested to Galileo 
our modern pendulum. 

In Rome 

The doors of St. Peter's were to close at eleven 
o'clock, so I pumped up my tires and rode to look for 
a lodging, get my breakfast and then ride to the 
Funeral in time to see the Pope. On the other side 
of a wonderful fountain arose from the most com- 
manding position in the City a stately structure, set 
with great marble pillars, on the roof of which I read : 
GEAND HOTEL. This fashionable hotel had not 
been recommended to me, but I felt it was safe. So I 
rode through the park of palms and flowers fre- 
quented by the guests, deciding to come here myself 
after I had registered and breakfasted. Twice my 
wheel fell down where I leaned it against a thirty- 

120 



WITHOUT A CENT 

foot marble pillar, making so much noise I needed no 
further announcement of my arrival. I was there. 
Everybody knew it. My wheel put on no " airs, ' ' and 
acted the same as it did when it stood in Mrs. 
Moriarity's hen-yard. But both of us more than 
half expected to be chased out before we got 
in. 

Instantly when I had told my mission, my name 
went down on the register. "Breakfast is ready," 
said the manager, as distinguished tourists gathered 
around the wheel. "Make this your home while in 
Rome. ' ' 

No millionaire ever so rich. It meant recognition 
of the worth of my adventure, confirmed my own 
confidence in it, and steadied my growing enthusiasm. 
In the grandest dining-hall in all Europe I ordered 
my full table d'hote breakfast at nine, eating peaches, 
pears and figs before the lamb-chops, eggs and coffee 
with toast, feasting my eyes upon the art-gallery walls 
and ceiling in gold, and thinking of the poor bum 
back at Genoa. 

Then I rode to the Cathedral, miles away, past the 
Forum and its acres of falling pillars, then over the 
Tiber, as Caesar before me had swam it. 

At a little before the closing of the doors I pushed 
aside the heavy leathern curtain of the great door- 
way, the portal of which was set with columns forty- 
eight feet high, surmounted by a parapet supporting 
two hundred and thirty-two statues, taking my first 
excited glimpse of the greatest cathedral in the world, 
and saw the mortal remains of a Pope. 

I descended into the prison where Peter and Paul 
were held, and saw the catacombs for miles under- 
ground. After five days of seeing Rome to the full 
from my wheel, I rode out on the old Roman road for 
Florence, knowing that I was to return and see the 
coronation of a new Pope. That night I slept in a 
wheat field with two sheaves for a pillow and four for 
a cover, in the dreaded Campagna fever-fens! The 

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AROUND THE WORLD 

next night I lodged in the home of a poor family, with 
chicory for coffee. 

The third day I was in the wild Apennines, steep 
and rough, one mountain right after another, where 
the soil and contour were volcanic. 

On a sharp curve I had a hard fall down the moun- 
tain side, tearing my clothing badly, bruising and 
scratching my body, and breaking off a pedal, forty 
miles from town. In this condition I was refused food 
at the huts of these hill folk, not so much because they 
had none as because they thought it was not good 
enough. In one of these hovels the man sneaked into 
the kitchen and pushed his frail wife in to meet me. 
He did not know that his wretched hospitality would 
have been as welcome to me as the luxuriance of the 
Grand. That night a farmer turned me away from 
his haybarn, fearing I might smoke and burn him out. 
Then I crawled into the top of a wheat-stack, pulling 
out a few of the sheaves to get a hold and keep from 
falling out of bed during the night. There is nothing 
like sleeping in an Italian strawstack with the heavens 
for your ceiling and the grand pageantry of innocent 
memories crowding the galleries of your fertile mind. 
Every artist hopes to see Florence. Ruskin wrote of 
it. George Eliot's Romola describes it. Here is 
where Michael Angelo and Andrea del Sarto were 
turned loose upon new creations in color and form. 
The eye tires at the many gems of the renaissance, 
where both Ufficzi and Pitti Palaces are filled with 
thousands upon thousands of masterpieces. Here is 
but one : Cain, in bronze, stands in a sylvan scene. 
With his right hand he thrusts from his sight the 
murder that now stings his memory; lashed by con- 
science he is goaded to frenzy. His left hand spurns 
the vision of spring and life, and to the lovely maiden, 
tripping with fairy feet over the green meadow, gar- 
lands in her delicate hands, and wreath to crown, he 
turns his back. Amid this tranquil beauty, flooded 
with sunshine and happiness of playing children, Cain 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

wanders through his own Hell of hideous shapes and 
sounds. 

After standing at the spot where Savonarola was 
burned I took the road again, resting my face that 
had been twisted out of shape in admiring wonder 
of miles and miles of art. The sun was dazzling hot. 
The air was sizzling dry. But the shade was all the 
cooler, and the fountains gushed the coldest water. 

In a valley was a cattle-fair where hundreds of 
white oxen were shown. I caught a pair of these on 
the road, both snowy white, horns exactly alike, heads 
the same, ears flopping alike, eyes of same color and 
size, keeping step with each other — 

"Two minds with but a single thought, 
Two hearts that beat as one." 

Farmers were thrashing wheat in four different 
ways: by tramping it out with animals; by beating 
the sheaf over a stump or rock; by a flail, and by a 
steam-thresher. 

The young men in towns to whom I showed my 
letter of introduction in Italian could seldom read their 
own language, these street loafers or lower class youths 
were so illiterate. 

On the second morning I passed the XL VII mile 
stone out of Rome, and then, rounding a curve on the 
hill, the VII one, when the splendid view of the City 
of Seven Hills, seen often from the same spot by 
Julius Caesar, as he rode on his two-wheeled vehicle, 
burst into sight. 

Once more in Rome I took my meals at the Grand. 
Chaperoned by their father, I joined two Italian 
girls in their carriage, to see with them the great 
event that fairly rocked the city with excitement — 
the Coronation of a new Pope ! We were at St. Peters 
early. The multitude soon became a surging mob, when 
children were torn from their parents and never seen 
again. Women became hysterical and fought their 
way out with hat-pins. The doors had not yet opened, 
but as we had pushed up towards the front, we were 

12] 



AROUND THE WORLD 

sure to get in, and so we were very happy. Ahead 
of us deep rows of soldiers with bayonets fixed and rifles 
drawn cried to the people to halt. There were too 
many hundred thousand in that mass to heed such 
command. So these soldiers tried to push us all back, 
using their rifles, as I held to the girls to keep them 
from being thrown and trampled to death. With a 
mad surge forward at the opening of the doors, the 
human mass poured in so fast that tickets were not col- 
lected. Many had walked for days to see this Corona- 
tion. Others had slept in the streets so as to be sure 
to be in time, and to save the high price asked for 
rooms, if indeed a single room in Rome was vacant. 
Thousands had come days before and had booked at 
the hotels now overflowing into the hallways. Other 
thousands had reached the city only that morning. 
Still other thousands were coming. Boats and trains 
all emptied humanity that poured toward St. Peters. 
Rome, to her last citizen, was there. American cardi- 
nals jostled Italian farmers. The rich and cultured 
vied with the poor and unlettered — all glad, and mad, 
to get in ! 

When hundreds of thousands had filled the inside 
space, the doors were shut. Outside, with tickets in 
their hands, thousands begged piteously for admission, 
grieving over the lost opportunity of a lifetime. Some 
had crossed the ocean on fast steamers just for the 
Coronation. But none could get in. THE DOORS 
WERE SHUT ! 

Mass and music went on from nine to one. It was 
a most joyful crowd. There was but one language, 
that of the heart, and the face was its tongue. Thou- 
sands of nuns in black and white, thousands of monks 
in black and brown, bowed low as the priest was borne 
in on the Pontifical Chair, and the Triple Crown about 
to be set upon his head. By me was a little old woman 
of about eighty-five, in faded calico. She had evidently 
slept in the street as I had slept at the Grand. But 
she was so little she was not going to see the Coronation 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

after all. So, when the Crown was held aloft, I of- 
fered to lift her, and by her smile I knew I might. 
My own mother was at that very moment hovering 
near death in a Catholic Hospital. In my next letter 
which I was to get at Jerusalem, I was to know whether 
she rallied, or died ! 

After being a millionaire for nine days I said good- 
bye to the manager, received my wheel from the 
' ' Bell-boys, ' ' and by the sun saw that it was about two 
o'clock. I rode out of the city by the Appian Gate, 
as Paul had walked in before me, he to be beheaded, 
and I to go on around the world ! 

Off for Vesuvius 

From Rome to Naples is an ever-changing picture 
of hill, valley, mountain and sea. Apples, pears and 
figs could be picked from the roadside where quaint 
shacks of straw held human beings, where the Ford 
was a little donkey, the farmers too poor to afford the 
real auto. Thieving among them seemed to be com- 
mon. Returning from town a farmer discovered 
that his neighbor had carried off a dozen of his wheat 
shocks during his absence, setting them up in his own 
field. So he picked out his own grain and set them all 
back again, adding a few of his neighbor's shocks for 
good measure ! 

On a road that seemed to have no turning I rode 
all night, slowly and without a light, for many tramps 
lay sleeping at right angles to the road, their feet al- 
most to the edge of the wagon track, and I rode my 
wheel on her ' ' tip-toes, ' ' with muscles set, nerves alert, 
ready to dash forward at full speed if one of them 
should try to stop me. At a country cottage sometime 
after midnight a lover was serenading his sweetheart. 
The moon hung low. Dark shadows flung athwart 
the yard. The air was still and warm. Right below 
her window played the swain on a guitar, and when 
I slowed up to watch the sight, she came to the window 
in her nightie ! I longed for a sweetheart myself, but 

125 



AROUND THE WORLD 

without contesting his claims I speeded up again, the 
soft, sweet music of the romantic hour fading in the 
distance. 

Naples was the climax of beggars, noise and dirt. 
From my hotel on the sea I rode for Vesuvius, the 
streets growing narrow in that part of the city where 
macaroni is made. Squeezed through little pipes this 
delicious food is then hung out on the line to dry, like 
clothes, where dust from passing vehicles settles upon 
it and the flies roost, making it the best macaroni in 
the world! I always ask for "spaghetti" made in 
Naples. It is the best. 

The same volcano that had buried Pompeii two 
thousand years before was now again soon to send 
thousands to their death. The government forbade 
the ascent of tourists. "The government" being ab- 
sent I began my bicycle ride up the old furnace, as it 
smoked furiously and now and again hurled great 
belches of lava high in the air. I would have made 
better headway if an officer on horseback had not 
bothered me so much. He said I would be arrested, and 
for positive rudeness to have his own way I never saw 
his equal. A couple of times he rode his horse over 
me, but did not damage my wheel very much. I pushed 
him and his horse down off the path oftener than he 
pushed me and my wheel off. Trying thus to push 
each other off, his horse soon was winded. Then he 
dismounted and tried to stop me from the ground, but 
I didn't wait. At the half-way hut I abandoned my 
wheel, but finding the price of water too high for my 
pocket, plodded on in the dry tufa that dusted my 
fevered lips and let me sink knee deep in its baking 
heat. Reaching a private road leading to a stone wall 
and a gate, I sat down by the post, covering my head 
from the fierce rays of the awful sun, hoping some- 
how the locked gate would be opened for me, when 
a man came out of the little house and ordered me to 
go back. Then his daughter came to draw water from 
a cistern, saying: 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

"Papa, let him in!" 

The gate flew open, as I rushed to the cistern to help 
the girl draw the water, filling myself and bottle at 
the same time, without which I could not have made 
the ascent. Ten winding spirals led me to the top, 
past the stream of lava five feet deep as it broke over 
the path, hissing and sputtering and wriggling like 
an angry serpent from Hell. Fumes of sulphur and 
hydrochloric acid rising in clouds of dust under my 
feet irritated my eyes and nose and almost suffocated 
me, while the heat rapidly increased as I ascended. 
Hundreds of fissures opened all around me from which 
issued hissing steam and smoke. The ground shook in 
convulsions. My shoes were smoking. My clothing 
was scorching. Some guides who lost their lives when 
the top blew off, were still risking the danger zone, 
looking after any parties who might make the ascent 
for scientific purposes. After a longer pause than 
usual the mountain began to tremble as if in mortal 
agony when the lava shot straight into the sky in 
wrathful defiance of heaven's law that chained its 
terrific energy in the narrow vault of the mountain. 
Hurled high in the air, big stones dropped at my feet. 
My guide pulled me with him as we fled down the 
volcano's side. This was the volcano that blew her 
brains out on that side of the Globe, and kicked over 
San Francisco on this side ! 

TWO WEEKS ON THE MEDITERRANEAN 

In a row-boat my wheel and I are taken out to the 
ship lying at anchor. The music made by my hand 
running through the limpid water sings to my listening 
ear and throbbing heart. More of us are poets than 
editors and neighbors recognize. Our trouble is in 
telling it. The delirium of joy robs the power to 
crystallize the rapture into ordinary words. As a 
test of your own poetry, rock with me on the blue Bay 
of Naples as the city recedes, fading into purplish 
mystery, old Vesuvius gushing liquid fire from her 

127 



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recent wounds, and rising out clearer as we glide on 
this Sea of the Carthaginians ! Yonder the rocks stand 
hundreds of feet from the water. There, Magic Capri, 
whose grottoed rainbows play with blue sky and crim- 
son sunset. But best of all, there's my ship, for my 
ship has come in ! Not a big liner, but with graceful 
bow and gentle swell, big enough and high enough 
out of the water to be safe and homey. 

The boatman takes his twenty centimes, looks up at 
the Captain, and rows back, when I present my ticket 
that calls for meals and a "place on deck." I am on 
a traveling hotel for two weeks, and my board is paid ! 
Two weeks of just going, with rest for my legs and 
work for my mind, sleeping safe from wild cattle and 
fierce banditti. The whistle sounds. The boat churns 
the sea and swings around. From below, in little 
boats, rises music from musicians. But the sweetest 
music is heard only by the "inner ear." 

The next day we steamed into the classy Bay of 
Palermo, capital and chief city of the Island of Sicily. 
The "Letimbro" lay here till night, giving me ample 
time to see the city, where little donkeys laden with 
fruit and kids stumbled over frisking dogs. Less than 
a third as big as Ireland, and one-tenth as big as Kan- 
sas, the weight of the mighty past oppresses the stu- 
dent of this little world. Over this rocky isle are 
strewn the heroic myths of Ulysses and Vulcan. De- 
scendants of many races jostled me in the streets, the 
pure Greek face with oval form admired by Titian, 
with black, lustrous eyes and low forehead, full cheek, 
pug nose and little mouth ; the Spaniard, with proud 
setting down of heel ; negroes with black, curly hair, 
thick lips and tawny skin. Along the streets grew the 
pepper tree, while the esplanades blazed forth with 
gorgeous Judas trees and elephant-leaf. 

All night we sailed on a sea of glass, passing through 
the narrow channel between Italy and Sicily where 
Scylla and Charybdis ruled. 

I slept on deck on a bed of canvas, awaking, just 

128 



ITALY AND SICILY 




« 1*M 




Sicilian Kiddies Greeting the Author 



TURKEY 





This Launch Rescued the Author 



WITHOUT A CENT 

as the sun in crimson glow poured its glory over the 
sea, the ' ' Letimbro ' ' slowing up for Catania and mak- 
ing fast to a huge stone wall built out into the Bay. 
With a day and a half ashore and a home at the best 
hotel that looked right down into the busiest street, 
I ''lived and moved," buying transparent seedless 
grapes that melted in my mouth like perfumed dew, 
and delicious ripe figs, sixteen for a cent, from 
hawkers riding braying donkeys — to say nothing of 
pears, peaches, plums and prunes, all of the best tast- 
ing I ever ate. Youngsters followed me, curious to 
see the cyclist who was riding around the world. One 
of these kiddies had rushed out in his nightgown — 
he reminded me of the boy Jesus — and I took his 
picture and gave him a hug. The bare hills back 
of the city caused me to ask the reason. "Dibosca- 
mento, " said one, which means deforesting. The 
Sicilian forests had been wantonly destroyed by ruth- 
less dollar-chasers, and not replaced. Her private 
capitalists had robbed her of her greatest asset, for 
as soon as the trees had gone, the rains went. 
1 ' Diboscamento ' ' means no lakes, no brooks, no spring, 
no fruit, or flowers, or wheat, or corn. It means cold 
winters and hot summers. England, the most abund- 
ant in trees, is the most salubrious. " Diboscamento" 
is the present curse of the United States, for our 
representatives at "Washington, by bribe or otherwise, 
allow private corporations to rob us of our fine forests 
without so much as making them replant as many 
trees as they cut down, robbing the land of its noblest 
and most necessary asset, making travel in those 
regions like a hideous nightmare. We should not 
only plant more trees than we destroy, but we should 
also plant, on both sides of the road running north 
and south, and on the south side of the road running 
east and west, fruit, nut, lumber and ornamental trees, 
thus increasing the scenic beauty of our landscape, 
make rural drives more pleasant, the climate more 
equable, and adding untold wealth to the nation. 

131 



AROUND THE WORLD 

Sicily is today bleak and bare. What she raises 
from the ground must be done by irrigation. 

Crete rises high in bleak mountains with vineyards 
hiding in the valleys, the blue sea kissing its scarred 
edges and cooling the heat of a tropical sun. 
Hucksters in boats hurried to us with white and 
purple grapes, and big bursting figs, black and blue. 
In getting my change from the boy I got some small 
coins in five and ten leptas so that when we reached 
Athens on the morrow I could hire a boatman to 
take me ashore and be able to pay him in his own coin. 

"Graeca!" cried a sailor running to me from the 
ship's kitchen, pointing to the rising shore line. 
Higher and higher the little country of Demosthenes 
rose out of the sea until the mountains back of Athens 
stood out keen and clear in the rarest of rare at- 
mospheres. I dropped into the first rowboat and 
was the first to land, and as the train for Athens, six 
miles away, was just now due to leave, I ran for the 
depot. The gate-keeper saw me coming, had a ticket 
ready, and punched it, as I caught the last coach. 
At Athens I asked the first Athenian I met the way 
to the Acropolis. 

"Akropolis!" he said, pointing to the right. We 
both spoke Greek ! 

I hit the path on a hard run, glad for the outdoor 
exercise on land, and was climbing, and then on top 
of Mars Hill in less than a minute, stumbling over 
platforms, pillars, images and statues — a gloriously 
ghastly wreck. "And this is the Parthenon!" I ex- 
claimed to myself, my heart beating like a drum as I 
walked beneath the marble wreckage of ages. From 
temple to temple I sprinted, studying rapidly 
elaborate frieze and cornice, sitting in the old marble 
seats of the theatres, the names of those long-gone 
playgoers still carved upon them. As some of the 
ruins were so much more worn than others I sought 
the cause : The Romans who conquered the Greeks, 
built here some of their temples, but their work, even 

132 



WITHOUT A CENT 

though much later, was not so well preserved as that 
of the Greeks. The same storms chilled them. The 
same volcanoes shook them. There was one dif- 
ference : honest workmanship of the Greeks. It was 
noon when I walked through the theatre of 
Dionysius seating three thousand, where ages ago 
the plays of Sophocles and Euripides were heard. The 
players had made their final exits. The rich and 
cultured patron had gone — and all because of what 
Paul brought to Athens — the certain definite God 
whose greater wisdom and splendor made those 
marble cuttings look like pig-pens ! 

I was about to make my descent into Athens when 
two girls in bright colors came up Mars Hill, the 
daughters of the Captain and Mate, on vacation from 
a Genoa college, when I ran to them and helped them 
up the steep grade from Mars Hill to the Acropolis, 
then down to lunch at Hotel Pateros. 

Back on the Acropolis again, I looked off into the 
Plain of Marathon, where Darius was defeated by 
Miltiades, and then at the Plain of Attica, a little 
farther back, the atmosphere clearer than that of 
Colorado or Switzerland. I was studying again the 
innumerable fragments of history in broken and fallen 
marbles, when looking toward the sea I was startled 
to see smoke from the the funnel of the "Letimbro" 
rise in big, black clouds, firing up for her sail to 
Turkey. I caught the train bearing the two girls to 
the beach and then in a row-boat to their fathers' 
ship, where on the clean deck I stretched my legs 
as I gazed upon the passing grandeur of Acropolis 
and mountain background, the sun pouring down 
upon her treasure-fields the golden splendor of Sum- 
mer's sunshine. I saw the same scene as it was 
twenty-three centuries before the "Letimbro" 
throbbed with steam-filled cylinders below me. The 
Parthenon gleamed strangely near. Yonder Corin- 
thian pillar and Doric shaft, columns of ineffaceable 
beauty, looked down upon Homer as he walked in 

133 



AROUND THE WORLD 

ecstatic meditation. Along the frieze of the Olym- 
pian temple of Jove, Phidias crawled with chisel and 
hammer, giving last touches to his imperishable mas- 
terpiece. There on that Hill the world's greatest 
poetry, oratory, and architecture first spread wings 
of flight to other continents. 

Little islands rose grandly around us as we changed 
our course, now for one and. now for another of these 
amethysts of the Aegean. The long rays of the set- 
ting sun tipped with silvered gold the receding col- 
umns on the Hill. Night stole softly over land and 
sea, when moonlight hung the sinking shoreline with 
gauzy dreams. 

Up to date, August 27, I had ridden 13,650 miles, crossing 
fifteen countries, with 26,350 miles yet to go. 

IN TURKEY MY TROUBLES BEGIN 

Scores of funny long row-boats with sharp prows 
hurried out to us in the bay at Smyrna, each boatman 
calling loudly for his share of passengers and bag- 
gage — mine following me down the street and de- 
manding a second fee. It was Sunday and business 
was in full swing. It was like a great circus just to 
be on the streets. Donkeys and camels did most of 
the carrying, walking right on the sidewalks, like a 
train of cars. Seven camels were usually tied to- 
gether, and these to a donkey, which led them, each 
about fifteen feet apart, while three bells, one within 
the other, were placed on the last camel to warn 
people at the head of the donkey, one hundred and 
twenty-five feet away, to look out ! 

At the College I was engaged to give lessons in 
physical culture. The Christians were having a hard 
time in competing with the Turks who boycotted them 
and otherwise injured their business and comfort. 
It seemed so strange to worship in a Christian church 
here in one of the cities of the "Seven Churches," 
and to sing the world-loved hymn, "Nearer, My God, 
to Thee," in Greek — "Egguteron, Pros Ton, Theon." 

"Wishing to go to Ephesus by rail, one of the 

134 



WITHOUT A CENT 

Armenian students was sent to show me the way to 
the depot. Somewhere on the route he turned aside 
and led me up to a sweet-shop where I bought him a 
generous package of candy. Then he led me into that 
part of town where the greatest numbers of "eats" 
and "drinks" were to be had. For two hours he 
kept me going, halting right in front of a lemonade 
stand or candy stall, piloting me so fast as to require 
the greatest quantity of refreshment in that hot and 
dusty town. We first had a red glass of something, 
then a yellow glass, then a clear one, meanwhile eat- 
ing our way through the whole list of Ottoman sweets 
until I had set up everything in sight to this young 
scamp. The sweat from frequent imbibing of tem- 
perance drinks poured over my clean collar, while 
the terrible dust from the dirty streets settled into 
my clothes with grimy vengeance. 

"Why don't we get there?" I asked impatient. 

' ' I don 't know, ' ' he replied. 

Brigands were infesting the suburbs of Smyrna. 
Tourists had been warned of them and asked to re- 
main at home. A big price was on the head of the 
leader, Tchakigis, for he warred against the Turks 
rather than foreigners. His policy was to capture a 
rich man or woman, or some one for whom he believed 
a big ransom would be paid. Once in his hands there 
was no escape if the money was not forthcoming, his 
severity being due to the act of treachery inflicted 
upon his father, also a brigand, who on being prom- 
ised his freedom if he would lay down his weapons in 
the city square, was immediately executed. The in- 
furiated son determined to exact the last farthing 
for this Turkish perfidy. As his quarrel lay with 
the Turks, the natural foe of Christians, I had little 
fear of him, and with a Greek guide rode into the hills, 
carrying our wheels where we could not ride, and 
stopping long enough at a fig tree to eat what we 
wanted and fill our pockets with this fine food, reason- 
ing that if we should accidentally come upon this 

135 



AROUND THE WORLD 

outlaw, this extra food would come in handy. This 
tree, as was most fig trees, was about fifteen feet 
high, well-branched, and evidently bearing more fruit 
than would pay its taxes — for trees in Turkey were 
taxed, whether they bore fruitage, or not, and because 
of this abominable law, many trees which might bear 
fruit if given a chance, were cut down by the owner, 
thus robbing the land of one of its chief assets. Like 
most fig trees, the fruit on this one could not be seen, 
its deeply-scalloped leaf hiding it. The Saviour once 
turned aside to such a fig tree to examine closely, as 
1 did here, for fruit — he finding nothing but leaves. 

We came upon a rude mountain tavern where one 
of the two wild men we met gave us a scare — we 
thought he must be Tchakigis ! We were not so much 
mistaken, for the bandit had been there just before 
us, where he hurriedly gulped down some coffee, 
grabbed up a package of cigarettes, leaped to his 
horse and was off. Like him, we took our coffee in 
gulps. 

With a missionary I went by rail to Ephesus, forty- 
one miles away, the only refreshing scene that of 
white grapes strewn in great patches on the ground 
to cure. Shrivelled by the hot sun and dry air, the 
peasants shovelled them into big heaps when they 
were put into big baskets and bags. It did seem so 
queer to ride into E-p-h-e-s-u-s ! the city to which 
Paul wrote his letter to the Ephesians. All about us 
were fields of fallen pillars, crushed pedestals, and 
broken statues, victims on the deserted battlefield 
of defeated gods. Right out of the ruins of the Temple 
of Diana grew a fig tree full of most excellent figs, 
many of them curing right on the tree. I climbed up 
and picked all we wanted, and not a rascal priest of 
that Diana faith was there to keep me down. 

Back at the station we were eating a watermelon 
when a peasant woman and her daughter tried to buy 
their tickets for less than the regular fare, for ori- 
entals "dicker" with sellers by "haggling." These 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

women, unused to railroads, were so ignorant they 
thought they could "reduce the fare." 

"Too much," said the mother, in Turkish, and 
moved away as if about to set out afoot. The ticket 
agent was calm. Then she came back and laid down 
some coins. 

"Must have more," said the agent. 

"We can't go, mother," said the girl, "that's all 
we have." 

The third time she laid down money. The third 
time it was pushed back. After much fumbling under 
outlandish garments, the daughter finally fished up 
another coin, showing no evident surprise at finding 
it. 

"Now, that's all!" said the mother vehemently. 

The train pulled in, as the agent turned to other 
duties. The passengers went aboard. The train was 
ready to leave. Then the mother began a most search- 
ing examination of her costume, seen and unseen, 
finding somewhere in a skirt or other under-garment, 
another coin, which she laid down, with the rest, cry- 
ing: 

"That's our train. We can't go." 

The bell was now ringing for the departure of the 
train. Then the two worked together in earnest, for 
the engineer was opening the throttle. 

"Get it, Salina!" cried the woman. "We'll get 
left!" 

Then the daughter went down under her clothes 
once more and, without any hesitation, got the re- 
quired coin. The ticket was issued, and the two 
females whose government was barbarously murder- 
ing Christians because of their superiority, climbed 
into the dumpy coach as it began to move into the 
desert. 

No missionary there dare tell half of the truth in 
a letter home. She may only hint at the frightful 
plottings to exterminate the Armenians. Until the 
great nations of the world bring Turkey before them 

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AROUND THE WORLD 

and give her the punishment due her, at once and 
forever putting a stop to her million massacres, I 
for one will think they are just fooling us about the 
League of Nations. Compared to what they did to 
others, my torture was kind treatment. But I think 
my own mother would not have known me when I 
escaped from their hands and was received aboard 
one of our battleships. 

The pitiful cries of a kitten coming from the cellar 
of a Mohammedan house in Smyrma, where it had 
fallen through a broken window, made me pause until 
an unveiled woman happened along when she helped 
me knock at the door which a young woman opened, 
as she threw over her face a fuzzy mantle. The 
woman told her about the kitten and. that I wanted 
to get it, when she stood back to make room for me. 
By the laws and customs of the land I should not 
have been admitted, but I was in the house, and at 
her invitation. Over rich rugs and past divans built 
into the wall I passed into another room bordered on 
both sides with silk-hung couches. The girl pointed 
to a low door into the cellar as she hastened to hide 
behind a heavy portierre. I hurried, for the one 
thing I feared was the returning Moslem husband, 
who finding me in his house would want to kill me 
on the spot. In the dark and dingy basement I found 
the kitty as it staggered toward me, nearly dead 
from exhaustion. With it held securely to my throat 
I was climbing the dark stairs when heavy foot- 
steps on the back piazza told me of the presence of a 
man. Nearly falling over a foot-stool in one room, 
and becoming tangled in the curtains as I hastened 
into the other, I got out again on the street, the 
Moslem female having vanished. The man proved 
to be a eunuch delivering some groceries, but I lost 
no time in leaving. As the kitten would have been 
trampled to death by passing camels, I took it with 
me to the college. Here I washed its face and gave 
it a saucer of goat 's milk which its little pink tongue 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

could not lap up fast enough, its bushy tail sticking 
straight up, and curling at the end in a sincere 
' ' Thank you ! ' ' Immediately afterward it fell asleep 
in my lap. In a suitable wooden box I kept it in my 
room, bringing it such food as it required. 

In the Lawson Packing-House I was told to help 
myself to a heap of ten tons of figs, and when the 
women sorting them knew I had ridden my wheel 
all the way from Polo, and across the ocean, they 
tossed me the finest ones they could find as they 
walked around on them with bare feet. Sorted into 
four grades, these figs were carried to the floor above, 
where Turks, Armenians, Greeks and Syrians packed 
them, taking the figs, one at a time, into their two 
hands, between the thumb and forefinger, splitting 
the skin on the under side and drawing the fig apart 
from below, as it was being flattened, then dipping 
it hurriedly into a pail of sea-water, it was pressed 
into the box, row after row, and layer after layer. 
Thus broken and pulled apart on one side, the figs 
so packed have the appearance of being much larger 
than they really are, and they pack better and blend 
more in taste with the other figs. The salt water 
tends to preserve them, as well as improve the taste, 
and it prevents the hands of the men becoming 
' ' sticky. ' ' Smyrna figs lead the world. The sunshine 
and climate, together with the sting of a certain wasp, 
make them the superior of all others. This same 
wasp has been caught in Turkey and imported to* 
California, where it has been bred in great numbers. 
Figs so "stung" there are called "Calimyrna" figs, 
and they are much better in taste than other Cali- 
fornia figs not so stung, looking and tasting much 
like the real Smyrna fig. So much for being ' ' stung. ' ' 

Arrested at Constantinople 

Engaging a student to feed the kitten in my ab- 
sence, and giving him a coin with the promise of 
more coins on my return, I sailed on the "Albania," 

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AROUND THE WORLD 

for a side trip to the Bosphorus. Indented by little 
bays, and resembling a river rather than a sea, the 
Aegean was like glass all the way. The atmosphere 
was veiled by sunlit purple flung with mysterious en- 
chantment that quieted the nerves and inspired my 
pen: 

The glory of the past is thine, 

Thou blue Aegean Sea ! 
Still rise the Isles enchanted here 

Like monarchs bold and free. 

Thy breath is like a fragrant balm, 

Thy wavelets soft or wild ; 
Thou hast the beauty of the dawn, 

The passion of a child. 

I slept on deck by two Moslems, one of whom 
forcibly stole my bed space by pushing me aside. 
As he was a Moslem and I a Christian, and as he car- 
ried a dagger, and I an olive-branch, I let him kneel 
and pray on his rug laid down on my space, while I 
prayed to my God, on another. We rubbed against 
each other as we slept, and when I awoke during the 
night, as I often did, in nervous expectation of some- 
thing that might happen, I felt of myself to be sure 
that I was alive, for one of his teachings told him 
he might have thirty beautiful wives in Heaven for 
every Christian he would kill here. The Greek sailors 
disliked these Mohammedans, and took sides with me, 
as did all the Europeans aboard. 

On Sunday morning we ran into the Golden Horn 
where the Sweet Waters of Europe meet the salty 
sea, steaming among a lot of Turkish battleships. I 
looked as meek as I could so they wouldn't fire on us. 
Some Turks came aboard from a launch, looking 
furtively among the passengers, one of them at me. 
I didn't flinch, but his look made me uneasy. Every 
"bell" on board our ship of life tolls the death of a 
passing experience, and announces the birth of a new 

140 



TURKEY 



* 





HOLY LAND 















/5 









WITHOUT A CENT 

force in our career. Before he took his eyes off of me 
I knew I was a "marked" man. 

The sun was rising out of the Black Sea as the 
"Albania" slowly made her way toward the City of 
Constantinople, rounding a quadrant of beauty on her 
seven hills like a Queen of May awakening with the 
sun, to etch in delicate tracery of silver the bold front 
of palace and minaret, and fringing with lace-work 
the cloud-effect half hiding the higher part of the 
city from us. It was a most brilliant panorama. We 
had come at the right moment. The big, round sun, 
so yellow in contrast to the rocky hills of grove and 
parterre, came up in the right spot for effect, burnish- 
ing every point with morning glow. Like the virgin 
face of the expectant Turkish bride uncovering at 
the approach of her lover, the storm clouds hang- 
ing over the city, foretelling its impending doom, 
lifted. 

All on board felt the grandeur of the scene. The 
night had been cool. The morning was moist and 
fragrant. Ozone of electric energy gave snap to the 
nerves and lustred every eye. Every one seemed 
fastened to the deck where they stood, in rapt ad- 
miration at the unrolling splendor as the City of 
Constantine, with a mottled history of romance that 
reads like a nightmare, lay before us. 

The "Albania" did not dock at once, but steamed 
slowly from the shore, affording us a series of ever- 
changing pictures of the city rising solidly from the 
water like an elaborate bird-house of giantland. 
When the anchor finally dropped, I had counted fifty- 
six minarets, rising straight and defiant above all 
else, in some of which the muezzin was calling the 
hour of prayer. A little launch flying the Stars and 
Stripes drew near. It was the most beautiful of all 
the sights, and it seemed to say: "Glad you're here. 
I '11 take care of you ! ' ' 

From hundreds of ships in the harbor waved flags 
of all nations, the Star and Crescent on many of them. 

143 



AROUND THE WORLD 

The only flag that was cheered, was my flag. It was 
the world's choice — and mine! 

"You can't get in on that," said the Customs offi- 
cial, as he handed back my Passport and tried to keep 
my pocket-knife on the plea that it was a weapon. 

"Look here," I said, "this is my Passport. It 
takes me everywhere !" With shrug of shoulder and 
slur on lip he was turning away when I opened it and 
read the description of myself to him. 

1st, my age, but I am still unmarried. 

2nd, my height — five feet ten inches. 

3rd, my forehead — medium ; eyes, brown ; nose, big ; 
chin, prominent ; hair, wavy and black ; face, long and 
thin. 

' ' We can 't admit you on that ! " he said, more ar- 
rogantly. 

"But see !" said I, as I pointed to the heading of the 
Passport : 
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, DEPARTMENT 

OF STATE. 
TO ALL TO WHOM THESE PRESENTS SHALL 
COME GREETING: 

The undersigned, Secretary of the United States of 
America, hereby requests all to whom it may concern 
to permit HENRY M. SPICKLER, A CITIZEN OF 
THE UNITED STATES, SAFELY AND FREELY 
TO PASS, AND IN CASE OF NEED TO GIVE 
HIM ALL LAWFUL AID AND PROTECTION. 

Honored everywhere, the "Sick Man of Europe" 
turned it down. Other passengers were examined and 
checked out, while I was told to stand aside with some 
low-grade fellows, the passengers looking askance at 
us as if we were criminals. Guarded by two "Cops," 
who paced the floor before us like mock generals, we 
looked it. Then a burly officer in baggy trousers 
motioned us to follow him. I dropped in behind the 
others, an officer at my heels. 

A halt was made at the entrance to a barracks which 
we were made to enter. I hesitated, trying to tell them 

144 



WITHOUT A CENT 

how necessary it was that I meet my friends, though 
just where I might have found any one I could call 
a friend in Constantinople I did not know. 

Eight o'clock came. Nine, ten, eleven! Sitting 
around on bundles of clothing, smoking cigarettes or 
Turkish pipes, my "pardners" passed the time de- 
jectedly. Then I made a test of the situation 
to see if I were really under arrest. I walked back 
and forth, then to the door, then out of the door and 
right back, then whistled "Yankee Doodle. ' ' I started 
again boldly for the door, was outside all right, and 
planning what street I would take when a guard com- 
manded me to return ! 

Shortly we were marched through crooked streets 
solid with houses and shops, two women having been 
added to our bunch. I wondered if they were to be 
imprisoned with us. The first "suspect" ahead of 
me was evidently a Turkish Moor, with head wrapped 
in black and white cloth. He had the Turk's thick lips 
and solid chin. His eyes were deep-set, dreamy and 
black, with a look of deep study. But for the lowly 
life he had been compelled to live at hard labor his 
tall straight body would have allowed him to pass 
for a gentleman of culture. But for his prominent 
jaws and haggard expression I would have selected him 
as my room-mate. Next ahead was a young fellow 
about twenty-five, with curled black mustache, his 
right leg two inches shorter than his left, bending under 
heavy luggage in a blanket. He wore the regulation 
fez and was evidently a Moslem. I would not choose 
him. The third and fourth were ordinary types met on 
deck passage on the Mediterranean. Poor, they lived 
the life of simplest toil, with no ideas of their own 
and none borrowed. 

I was half mad at these simpletons when they turned 
without protest into a dark court through a big iron 
gate. Of course I had to follow. Somewhere along 
here the women dropped out. I made no inquiries 
but kept on. I soon was alone in a big hall. 

145 



AROUND THE WORLD 

Summoned before a magistrate into another room, 
I was trembling a little as to the motive when a strange 
coincidence suddenly nerved me into self-possession. 

A little maltese kitten with pink mouth, waving its 
furry tail, and welcoming me by a friendly "meow," 
suddenly appeared there on the floor, approaching 
me from the desk. In size, color and action it was 
the exact copy of the one I had befriended back in 
Smyrna. 

' ' Kittie ! " I called, as it ran toward me looking 
into my eyes as if it had always known me. With it 
pressed close to my chin I walked straight to the desk 
of the now smiling Mohammedan Judge who marvelled 
that the kittie knew English and had given me its con- 
fidence so quickly. 

"Are you an American?" he asked. 

I pressed my little friend the closer, drew myself 
up to my full Yankee height, my eye on his, and re- 
plied : 

' ' Yes, sir, I am ! ' ' 

For a brief moment I held his gaze, a moment that 
was dramatic. That moment seemed to change his 
mind somewhat. Then he gave orders to an attendant, 
and I followed him out. My Passport was then taken 
from me, when I appealed to the United States Consul. 

' ' I wish you would send for him at once, ' ' I said ; 
and a page was sent out. 

In a short time two heavily armed Moslems re- 
turned with the page, big revolvers in their belts, with 
long swords dangling at their side. They came right 
up to me and said they were from the United States 
Consulate and as the Consul was not in, they had come 
for me. They informed me that I was under arrest 
because I had. come into the city without a Turkish 
passport. I can not tell how good I felt. My suffering 
was paid for in the unbounded joy of deliverance 
by my country. Just to look at the American maga- 
zines and newspapers lying on the table here made me 
feel as if I were right at home among the best of 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

friends. I was to return Monday to see the Consul. In 
the meantime I could go about the city. 

Near the Consulate I came upon the luxurious en- 
trance to the Bristol Hotel, where the manager met me 
with extended hand, my home for ten days ! On Mon- 
day I learned that the special passport required was 
an Imperial Edict ; that my failure to provide it be- 
fore landing would subject me to a fine — only two 
dollars — and the securing of one in the city at the 
regular cost of issuance. As I knew this to be simply 
a means of robbing tourists, and unconstitutional in 
international law, I declined to pay the fine. 

"You would hardly want to be imprisoned here, 
would you ? " he asked. I confessed I wouldn 't. 

"I can not see any other way out, Mr. Spickler," 
he replied, "I will do what I can for you." 

Tipping was more necessary in Constantinople than 
in most cities, but all I did was to hand out my pic- 
ture and name. On it I crossed the famous Galata 
Bridge, entered museums and churches, and at the 
door of St. Sophia, where a charge of fifty cents was 
made, I handed the old door-keeper my picture, who 
looked at it upside down, handing it back to me with 
a wave of his arm to go on in. My visit to a Turkish 
graveyard one evening shocked me by its tatterdemal- 
ion looks. Not a stone was erect, many were flat on the 
ground, or in the act of falling. To increase their 
spectral gloom, some of them — the tombs of men — were 
crowned by the Turkish fez or cap, making them look 
like a petrified foot-ball team making a "touchdown." 
The Turk plants cypress trees near his grave, for he 
believes that the soul reposing beneath the slab, when 
drawn out of the grave by the little tuft of hair al- 
ways left by barbers at the top of the shaven head 
for that purpose, may flit about in the shade of this 
tree, awaiting the judgment of the two angels who sit 
on each of the two caps covering the grave-stones. The 
souls of their women seem to have been unprovided in 
this way. 

147 



AROUND THE WORLD 

One morning as I looked upon the Golden Horn, I 
wrote : 

"To be" is the world's grand verb, 

The words that thrill the blood. 
To me they come with subtle power, 
Or rush like mountain flood. 

"To shine" all the universe through, 

In youth of morning dawn, 
Is the God-like wish of every one, 

Though everything else be gone. 

"To love" is the world's best phrase, 
The ring that charms "to be." 

This is the span of the golden bridge 
That swings 'tween you and me. 

"Without a guide I set out to see the Sultan on his 
way for prayers at the Mosque, some miles from the 
hotel. In the lower city I lost sight of the Palace and 
got mixed up with some lattice-windowed harems. I 
was afraid to stop, and it was forbidden Europeans to 
inquire at these houses. Thousands of Moslem cavalry 
shot past me, their fleet Arab horses all but running 
over me, the bays, sorrels, browns, grays, and duns, 
running together. Some of these horsemen looked 
back at me, but not one of them smiled. 

At last I reached the line of march, but at the wrong 
end. I took my stand behind the line, where two rows 
of men and one of horse guarded the road. But I was 
soon told to move up, and I was kept moving, until 
I reached the upper end where the great crowd had 
gathered. But I was to be the only non-Moslem among 
them. This excited the suspicions of the police, who 
came up to me, some of them jostling me as they passed 
to see if I carried any hidden weapon or bombs. I 
should have taken a guide, but he would have cost not 
only a fee, but also a conveyance, and I usually went 
about alone to save this expense. He would have taken 
me to another portion of the grounds where American 

148 



WITHOUT A CENT 

and European tourists were grouped. When it was 
noised about that the Sultan was coming, one of these 
cops got in front of me and tried to push me back. But 
I hadn't risked my life getting there on the long run 
from the hotel to be thwarted in my plans to see the 
Sultan. I knew if he pushed me from my position at 
the front, I would be compelled to take a position on 
much lower ground, from which it would be next to 
impossible to get a glimpse of this arch-tyrant. A 
second cop fought his way through the mass to help 
this first one. But I stubbornly refused to move, and 
although they threatened, I made signs to them that 
I wanted to see their Ruler, and that I would then be 
willing to go wherever they wanted to take me. Then 
his carriage rolled slowly by, holding, like a prisoner of 
evil, Abdul Hamid, the woe-begone, brutal featured, 
licentious monarch of the Bloody Empire. 

Three of them immediately surrounded me as if I 
were a wild beast. They were not accustomed to seeing 
one so different from themselves, in dress and looks, 
mixing in with them, in the Sultan's Gardens, and 
having already experienced my firmness to follow out 
my plans, they did not know what to expect from me 
when they came to arrest me. They were going through 
my pockets. The crowd was leaving the grounds, 
when a city-guide who had met me at the Bristol, 
stepped up and said the word that gave me my free- 
dom. 

The carriages were flying by with tourists and citi- 
zens returning to the European portion of Constan- 
tinople. I fell in behind one of these, reaching the 
hotel, five miles away, safely. 

Back at the Consul's rooms I learned that my fine 
had been remitted. At these rooms was an Armenian 
refugee whose life was sought by the Turks, who had 
chased him through the city. Because of their lying 
in wait for him, he could not leave the American quar- 
ters, but had his meals brought in to him. When he 
told me how he had seen his friends and relatives 

149 



AROUND THE WORLD 

tortured and put to death, you can imagine how I my- 
self felt. 

The blowing up a Turkish Transport, and the dyna- 
miting of a train back of the city, with the dying and 
dead borne through the streets, urged my immediate 
leaving. 

Back in Smyrna, where I had left my wheel, I asked 
first of all about the kitten. It had disappeared. Where 
it had gone, or how, the pupil could not tell, but he 
declared he had fed it, some time after I sailed. My 
mind went back to the court scene, and I wondered 
if in some distressing situation we should ever meet 
again. QFF FQR THE HQLY LAND 

The sea-ride from Smyrna to Joppa is one of the 
most inspiring excursions on the Globe. The Mediter- 
ranean, with its gentle zephyrs, its morning freshness, 
its many little islands rising like fascinating spectres 
out of the quiet blue, hugs a shore-line whose wild 
ways jag savage mountains that thrust their horny 
backs from blue above into blue below. The spicy 
mountain air came down, caressing the sea and ship 
with tender touch of sweetness. 

In scarlet plash of orange 

That paints the calm, blue sea 

With magic sweep of brush, 

I see the sun go down, 

Itself a ball of yellow gold, 

The standard unit of daylight skies. 

And yonder glinted peaks, that rise 

From out their sea-girt, purple thrones, 

Wave to the sun their fondest "au revoir!" 

When it from me had gone. 
So may some soaring angel o 'er our earth, 
When others turn away into their darksome night, 

By human axis governed, 
Still wave to me a merry "Bon Voyage" 

When from me rolls 
This dense dark globe of Night. 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

Anchoring off Mersina, two miles out, in the morn- 
ing, the Captain said he would lie here until twelve 
noon sharp. Tarsus, Paul's home town, was near here, 
so I was at once rowed ashore, caught the train on the 
little railroad managed by our Consul, and with fifteen 
minutes between trains to see Tarsus, I ran around 
the novel streets that wound up and unravelled at 
pleasure, kicking up ankle-deep dust, unable to find 
any one enough interested to show me Paul's birth- 
place, and listening for the down-coming train, which I 
soon heard, as it entered the yards a half mile away. 
Cutting corners, leaping stone walls, and grabbing at 
lemon and fig trees for souvenirs, I covered the distance 
just as the train began to move. On board was the 
Mayor of Tarsus, who gave me his signature. He 
warned me to hurry from the depot as soon as we 
stopped, if I meant to catch the ship, as there would 
be no time to spare. So when the train reached Mer- 
sina I sprinted for the wharf. 

Smoke was rolling straight up from the funnels 
of the steamer as I jumped into a row-boat and urged 
the Arab to make quick strokes for the same, with 
hardly thirty minutes left in which to do it, when an 
arrogant Turkish cop laid his hand upon me, and 
ordered the boatman to tie up, took my Passport, and 
commanded me to follow him. 

In several languages I tried to tell him, and I 
gestured in more, how necessary it was that I 
catch this ship by twelve o'clock. But he paid 
no attention to what I was trying to tell him, 
and kept on taking me back from the wharf 
into the Turkish town. I pleaded with him. I 
pressed his arm gently. I almost cried. But he 
kept on going away from the wharf. I called 
to him, but he only twisted his neck contemptuously, 
making fun of my painful dilemma. Then I ran ahead 
of him, begging him to increase his pace so that we 
might somehow be able to get back from where he meant 
to take me, and still by some good fortune, reach the 

151 



AROUND THE WORLD 

vessel before she sailed away with my wheel, valuable 
papers, and luggage. 

Fifteen minutes had gone. In fifteen more the boat 
would sail. It would take thirty minutes to be rowed 
out to her, but I meant to try to get there, if only 
he would let me go now. Then he led me into a build- 
ing before an officious snob, told him something about 
me, while I stood a prisoner before him. That rascal 
threw up his Moslem hands and waved me to another 
officer, blocks farther back, through littered courts 
and crooked passageways where lay scores of rough- 
necks. My buoyant enthusiasm, so increased by my 
having seen Paul's birthplace, and getting back in 
time to make the train, and then the ship, was all 
spoiled by this Satanic Imp of Mahomet, who had 
clouded the rest of my journey by his uncalled for 
deviltry. 

At the edge of a wall he led me into a room where 
a third dignitary was at lunch. The man was en- 
joying his meal, so without waiting for the cop to 
speak to him, I began the talk myself. He told him 
to let me go, gesturing the words so that I also might 
understand what he had said. The cop, like a coward, 
then motioned me to go away, if I liked, still holding 
my Passport, and knowing full well the difficulties 
I would have finding my way back to the wharf. 
Taking me part way, he was about to hand me my 
Passport, and to let me go on alone, when a new idea 
seemed to strike his mind. Glutting his appetite for 
more tyranny, and treating me as if I were his 
criminal prisoner, so that natives might scorn me 
or attack me, he was deliberating, when to my en- 
couraged surprise, the United States Consul, just then 
crossing the end of the street, saw me in the hands of 
this mock Justice. He came to my rescue ordering 
him to free me. 

"When we finally reached the front street I was 
most happily surprised to see the "Lazareff" still 
at anchor. She had been delayed by extra cargo. A 

152 



WITHOUT A CENT 

second boatman secured, my Passport delivered me. 
I now had hopes of reaching her before she sailed. If 
I did so, I meant to pay the rower twice the regular 
fee, but on the way out he demanded his fee. Tourists 
are warned not to pay this until they are landed, or 
otherwise they are made to pay a second or even a 
third fee. Of all my boatmen he was the most savage 
and importunate, as well as the biggest and the 
strongest. But the more importunate he was to get 
his fee before he had earned it, so much more per- 
sistent was I not to pay it. I had won the other case. 
I meant to win this. We were nearing the boat, in a 
heavy sea, and with my camera in my mouth I was 
about to leap into the water and swim, when a wave 
struck us and dashed us right against the flying steps, 
when I made a jump for them, and drew myself up on 
deck. When he came up for his pay I handed him his 
legal fare. 

The next morning we sailed into Beirut at the 
foot of the Lebanons. I fairly danced with joy when 
I saw our two American battleships lying here in the 
harbor, their guns trained on the city in defense of 
the American College, now threatened by the Moslems 
for rapine and plunder. A Turkish boatman rowed 
me to the "San Francisco." 

When ready to return to the "Lazareff" the Cap- 
tain placed me into his little launch, the Stars and 
Stripes flying at the stern, kissing the blue Mediter- 
ranean and flinging back defiance at tyranny as she 
glided past the Turkish boats. And when I climbed 
the rope ladder my voyage companions from northern 
ports leaned over the taft rail to get a closer glimpse 
of the little American launch and of the able Yankees 
managing her, and when I stepped on deck again 
they took me by the hand with such an enthusiastic 
fervor as to make me feel that to be just a plain 
American citizen was a fortune in itself ! 

When nearing Joppa the Russian Jews aboard 
bound square little boxes called "frontlets" to their 

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foreheads, the leather thongs passing around the 
head, and then tied. On the left arm they wrapped a 
leather strap in seven twists, after which they twisted 
their bodies in fantastic shapes while reciting parts 
of the Old Testament, in preparation for landing in 
the Holy Land, the most wonderful event in their 
lives, and in mine. 

Five big Arabs rowed me and wheel ashore, ap- 
parently not caring to take any other passenger in 
their big boat, and asking me only about one-fourth 
regular fare, which I voluntarily doubled when I 
saw how hard it was to row me safely over the sunken 
rocks.' 

My first five minutes in Joppa was worth a thousand 
a minute. How strange the customs ! I went up the 
hilly, crooked streets in the hot afternoon, buying 
watermelon, oranges, figs, and other fruits raised in 
Joppa. Our Lord chose a good country in which to 
be born. My tires were in bad shape and as I was 
eager to get my mail so as to know if mother was 
alive, I boarded the little train for Jerusalem ! Sixty 
miles of emotion ! I was out on the platform most of 
the way, for weren't we to go through the Plain of 
Sharon, and didn't I want to see everything, in- 
cluding the eagles soaring high above the mountains ? 
As the train puffed up the steep grade near the Holy 
City I pulled a ripe fig from a tree growing close to 
the track as I stood on the lower step of the plat- 
form. Then, as the train reached the top of the 
Judean Hills at early evening, some one cried : 
"That's Jerusalem!" When it stopped a half mile 
outside the walls the natives who had come to the 
depot to greet friends leaped at them like madmen, 
kissing them first on one cheek, then on the other, 
men with men. Cook's Agency, where my mail had 
been forwarded, was closed for the day, so I could 
not get it until the morrow. Mother had been carried 
to the hospital. No one believed she would live. Her 
last message reached me in Ireland just before she 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

went under the knife. So the letter that lay in the 
Tourist Office had news that would make me glad or 
sad beyond words. From the roof of the Grand Hotel 
I asked to be shown, first of all, Calvary, then Mount 
Olive. 

That night I slept in Jerusalem ! 

With arms full of mail in the morning I ran to the 
Hotel to open it. First the letters from home, in the 
order of post-marked dates. But before them, the one 
from the hospital that contained the news that 
caused my trembling hands to hurry. Her nurse had 
written it. She said she believed my mother would 
pull through! The next letter said that she was 
about to leave the hospital ! I never before knew the 
full value of "good news from a far country." But 
to get such news in the Holy Land ! And in mother's 
own hand, as the next letter was. 

The Holy Land could now unroll for me in fairest 
colors beneath my buoyant spirits- I was to have a 
grand time, and I knew it. I went about the city 
like one enchanted. Tourists at the hotel were 
happier because of my joy. At the Pool of Bethesda 
I bathed my temples, my eyes and my lips, and re- 
calling mother's sweet voice as she sang "By Cool 
Siloam's Shady Rill," I sought this spot, hoping that 
its olden balm might make my eyes to see more of 
the goodness of this world, and that my lips, anointed 
with this seraphic spring might speak more effectively 
the praise of my Maker. None but the real Chris- 
tian can know the delight and emotion, so strangely 
wonderful, that filled my soul when for the first time 
I looked upon these most sacred spots on earth. It 
was so easy to bow the head and say grace at the 
table, to kneel and say my evening prayer, there 
where Jesus had been ! It was good just to get into 
bed and fall asleep, and then to waken, in the night, 
or in the morning, and remember that I was in the 
most wonderful of all cities. Over everything and in 
everything I saw the Christ, with customs and habits 

1S5 



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the same as in the days of Abraham and Joseph. I 
saw the wheat heaped in the measure, then pressed 
down, shaken together, and finally heaped up again, 
as it ran over on all sides, when it was poured "into 
the bosom" which was the big loose, sacklike folds 
of the outer garment above the belt. I want to be 
so full of life I can't help running over, for others. 

Near the "Place of a Skull" outside the Wall, the 
gardener caring for the Tomb refused to take a single 
penny when he knew I had started penniless. No 
pomp or ornamentation was there to create a false 
impression. It was still an "unfinished," that is, a 
"new" tomb. The vault cut in the solid rock was 
about seven feet square, the right side below the lit- 
tle window being the portion meant for an adult. 

Jerusalem is still a big city where it is hard to find 
your way. When I visited the Temple Area, Dr. 
Merrill, our noble Consul, furnished me a Kwas or 
guide to represent the United States, the Turkish 
Government furnished a soldier to represent Turkey, 
and I had my own personal guide to represent me. 
In this official state I was conducted also to the 
Mosque of the Sacred Stone, being compelled to re- 
move my shoes before entering where the sacred fire 
burned the sacrifices. I touched it. The temple had 
gone, as Jesus said it would go, without one stone 
upon another. That same afternoon I walked out to 
Gethsemane, a beautiful flower-garden now main- 
tained by an American lady. 

Midnight Walk to Jericho 

The most dangerous journey was my midnight 
walk, alone, unarmed, to Jericho. When I left my 
hotel in Jerusalem at five in the evening I expected to 
reach the Samaritan Inn, ten miles away, before dark. 
It was not my intention to make a night journey of 
it, when the peril from Syrian robbers is greatest. 
But I lost my way, and when I found St. Stephen's 
Gate, the sun was low. 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

The Brook Kedron, gorging the rough valley flank- 
ing the eastern wall, lay below me. Beyond it, half 
way up Mount Olive, on the left, Gethsemane. 
Passing Absalom's Tomb on my right, the road swings 
in a grand half-eircle around the southern slope of 
the Mount. In the side of the hill was the traditional 
spot where Judas took his life. Beyond, near the 
road, the site of the fig-tree cursed by the Master. 
Several miles around, Bethany. 

' ' A certain man went down to Jericho. " If he went 
at all, he went down. One thousand feet fall in 
twenty miles is great. This is four thousand ! Al- 
though the stars were now out> revealing the forms of 
the mountains beneath their beams, the light failed to 
penetrate the deep canyons. It was easy to imagine 
every black object a ghoul and moving. 

No one goes alone over this road. The Bedouins 
themselves are afraid to do it. No other tourist had 
ever made the night journey alone. Two weeks be- 
fore, two fellahin, at the point of guns, were or- 
dered to give up their valuables and clothing, and 
then were made to ride off into the desert. The 
Saviour's "certain man" was first stripped and then 
beaten. 

The road led up through a deep cut that flung it- 
self around a jutting cliff. Here, on the left, a feeble 
light flickered from the open door of a low building. 
It was the Samaritan Inn. And I was half way down. 

The landlord urged me to stay till morning. He 
told me of hyenas that prowled at night. Of wolves, 
wild-cats and panthers; of hundreds of robbers I 
would meet. 

So I paid for my lodging and was shown into an- 
other room occupied by some wild looking men upon 
the floor and on cots. 

I knelt and prayed as was my custom, threw myself 
upon the hard cot, mechanically crossed my hands and 
became a formal candidate for sleep. But I soon 
found that a mind churned by such extraordinary 

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excitement refused to be quieted. Then it was that 
an enemy more numerous and irritating than all the 
brigands made an unexpected sally from their hiding- 
place. The sting of the fleas, added to the sting of 
cowardice for stopping here insulted my Yankee grit. 
I wondered if the wounded man, carried here two 
thousand years before me, had to endure these awful 
pests. I was mad that I had paid for lodging I could 
not use, and at midnight came out to see the landlord 
for a second time. 

When I came out into the office there stood be- 
fore me three of the most typical wild Bedouins I 
had seen. The first look of their shiny, black eyes, set 
in dark faces two-thirds hidden by blankets to their 
feet, was suggestive of treachery. But I was mad at 
the fleas, and danger seemed attractive in comparison. 

"They are going to Jericho on camels," said he, 
as their piercing eyes ran over me in search of booty, 
' ' they will show you the way. ' ' 

I was between two fires, the fleas and the robbers. 
Their looks — the wildest picture of humanity I ever 
saw, and at midnight, on the road to Jericho, cooled 
my pedestrian ardor. 

Jericho is near the Jordan. The Jordan is the 
boundary between the land of Moab and the Holy 
Land. The Bedouins of Moab are to the Bedouins of 
the Holy Land as outlaw desperadoes are to civilized 
robbers. Regular tourists never wander into the land 
beyond the Jordan, and the daring adventurer who 
risks his life to penetrate that wild and lawless region 
must be accompanied by a heavy guard of Turkish 
soldiery. Wonder not therefore at my fright when 
the landlord told me that these thieves were from the 
east of the Jordan ! I shall never forget the full force 
of that phrase. So I hesitated. They were leaving 
the Inn. As the last one passed out he waved me to 
follow, uttering something in Arabic that would have 
made a baby cry. I wondered what I should do. To 
go to Jericho with a party of outlaws was paradoxical. 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

But I was unwilling to return to the fleas, and I knew 
these men could not be trusted. 

Drawn by a strange fascination I slowly followed 
into the moonless night. Once outside, the men be- 
gan to mount big camels, having them first kneel on 
the stony road. One begged me to get on in front of 
him. 

"No!" I said, by gesture and voice, "I'll walk!" 
At least I wouldn't ride with a Bedouin behind me ! 

When the three camels moved off tandem, with me 
following the heels of the last one, I was dumb- 
founded to find fifty or more others join us in the 
darkness. I hadn't planned for these, so I hung back. 
The men on the camels, seeing me trying to slip away 
from them, stopped their camels, calling to me, and 
starting again when I came up to them. I had to go, 
the longest ten miles I ever walked, and the most 
perilous. 

Thinking to compel me to ride, their camels were 
urged into a brisk trot. But the idea of running was 
attractive to me, for it would sooner bring an end 
to my suspense. We passed in close succession three 
caravans, mostly of donkeys, whose drivers, seeing me 
tagging behind the camels, asked the men who I was 
and how they captured me ! 

After a time the third Bedouin dropped back as if 
to join the crowd we were fast leaving behind, to 
bribe them, I suppose, to keep silence if any harm 
should befall me at the hands of the two men left 
with me. Of the two remaining ones I chose the one 
whose camel and voice I less feared. My first duty 
was to get so well acquainted with voice and camel 
that in losing him while mixing in the up-coming 
caravans, I could easily find him again. So I pressed 
his bare foot and slapped his leg. 

Suddenly, while passing through a narrow gorge, 
the camels were brought to a halt, turned at right 
angles to the road and commanded to kneel, uttering 
loud bawls of unwillingness in which I silently joined. 

1S9 



AROUND THE WORLD 

They had selected a spot most desolate. For a 
moment my head swam in the light ether above me. 
But poise reasserted itself, and with it, courage. 
They seemed to change their mind, and I was merely 
asked to get on and ride, which I refused. 

"Get on behind!" he said. 

Still I refused. 

If I rode they might demand a fee, take my camera 
and clothes for pay, or possibly make me a prisoner, 
and hurry me across the Jordan, where they would 
hold me for ransom. When at last they started I 
helped my friend into his hunch-back saddle. As I 
helped him on, my hands recoiled as they touched a 
sword, dagger and pistol concealed under his blanket. 

Twice I was frightened. The two Bedouins, with 
their long-legged camels, had out-traveled the herd of 
donkeys which require rest every mile or so. "We were 
again alone. Suddenly they stopped short and 
listened, leaning far out over their camels' necks. 
They knew how far behind we had left our own cara- 
van. It was for any who might be coming up from 
below they listened. I knew they had planned some- 
thing in which I was to figure. 

We had descended on the road so far as to suffer 
from oppression of the atmosphere below sea-level. 
A sultry calm hung with gloomy pallor over the 
herbless hills. The Bedouins now left the road where 
a level waste lay between the two wadies. I hung be- 
hind until they halted. They had dismounted and 
driven the camels off to graze upon thorn bushes, 
evidently intending to take plenty of time for their 
scheme. Their blankets or outer garments were then 
spread upon the sand. Upon these they laid their 
weapons, all save a dagger in the belt of the one on 
my left, which he did not believe I had seen. Each 
then squatted upon the blankets, bidding me to sit be- 
tween them. I sat, but not for rest, far enough from 
each robber to make an equilateral triangle between 
us, ready to spring to my feet in an instant. While 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

the one on my right tried to get my attention on the 
sword he was bending double, the one on my left 
slowly slided behind me. So I kept moving, too, to 
maintain the proper distance from him. There in the 
glittering starlight lay their weapons. Here we three 
sat, at two in the morning, with no law to govern us 
but the law of the desert. I knew they meant to spring 
some trick to overpower me. I had only one weapon, a 
western mind (and the Master who walked the same 
road), so I watched each man as a hawk watches the 
gunner. 

Then they argued together. By accent and gesture 
I knew about what they said. 

"Shall we doit?" 

"No!" 

"Why not?" 

"He may explode that thing on us!" (the camera). 

For a minute they were silent — the longest of my 
life. 

Then they arose, took up their weapons and 
blankets, called their camels and were off. Again I 
refused to ride, saying that as Jericho was so near, I 
preferred to walk. 

Soon we came to the edge of the hills. Before us, 
in the coming dawn, lay the sandy brown plain, the 
road curving carelessly over the gray dunes and 
across the rough bed of a dry stream. Yonder, dimly 
blue, rose the mountains of Moab, where Ruth lived. 

The last tryst with the thieves was about a mile 
from Jericho, where as before, we sat on the blankets. 
This time, however, they retained their weapons in 
their belts, and I knew by their actions they meant 
to rob me. The lunch I carried was to keep me alive 
along the Jordan, but I decided to give it up rather 
than lose everything, for it is a law of the desert that 
he who eats with these Bedouins shall be saved from 
harm. 

"Dog!" I said, the Arabic word for "eat," hand- 
ing them my lunch of sausage and sandwiches. They 

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began to "dog" the pork sausage forbidden them by 
their religion, smacking their lips as if it were young 
chicken. Dawn was streaking the east. Pointing to 
the morning star I made signs that we be off at once. 
Half an hour later one flung his bony arm in the direc- 
tion of a faint light, crying : 

"Er Eiha! Saba-jal-sof-keloama!" (Jericho! 
There is your hotel.) 

Their camels were then urged into a fast trot to- 
wards the Fords of the Jordan. 

When I told of my night's adventure with the 
Bedouins, Hotel Belle Vue made me their guest. 

The sun was already scorching the hot sands shim- 
mering in tremulous heat waves over the flat waste, 
when I set out for the Jordan four miles away. The 
risk I was taking alone, to see it, made it all the more 
interesting, as I penetrated the dense woodland on the 
bank, when I suddenly came right upon it — a little 
stream like a swollen creek, where I took a swim in 
its swift current and then a little boat ride, rowing 
across and touching the Land of Moab with my 
fingers, so I might add that country to my travels ! 
In places the channel was only about thirty feet wide, 
in others as much as one hundred and fifty. I 
picked my way along for five miles, thrilled by the 
wildness of the place and by the sacred memories. 
A big gray wolf crossed just ahead of me ; then, 
armed with a revolver, a naked wild Bedouin planted 
himself squarely in my path, both of which tamed my 
zeal of floundering alone in this jungle, and made me 
hurry away. 

On the second day I walked six miles over the 
desert where the yellow dust went whirling in the 
slightest breeze in this rainless valley, while the fine 
sand squirted out from under every step like burn- 
ing embers, to the Dead Sea on which I could float, 
my head on my arms for a pillow, until I had to shriek 
for pain that the slimy, acrid water gave me when 
it got into my eyes, and raw places of the skin. In 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

this predicament a woman emerged from a little shack 
back from the beach and set a pail of sweet water at 
a safe distance. 

After wandering around the site of old Jericho, 
where not even a stone of the wall can be seen, drink- 
ing from a big pool of spring water, I walked back 
to Jerusalem, even more afraid than when I came 
down. For three days I was ill with the heat and 
excitement, and Jerusalem was talking of my rare 
adventure. 

With a Moslem guide, Strubel, I left Jerusalem by 
the Damascus Gate for a long walk north. We took 
our first lunch under an olive tree on the old caravan 
route btween Egypt and Damascus, carrying little 
flat loaves, and depending on vineyards and orchards 
when towns were scarce. Mountainous all day, we 
reached a narrow gorge, dreaded by tourists and 
called the "Robber's Spring," at sunset, which 
Strubel declined to enter, drawing his hand across his 
throat to indicate its reputation. Much against his 
will I urged him on. At the bottom of the valley we 
drank from the deep spring from which the Master 
must often have drank. On the other side, Bedouins 
were eating supper in their camp. If we stopped 
near them they would trouble us during the night, so 
I made Strubel follow me right into their camp, the 
natives looking at us, bewildered. Putting down my 
bundle I began to eat my supper, Strubel doing the 
same. One by one they came up to me, trying to talk, 
and ending by prying into my pockets. Refused this 
privilege, one of their number with fine face rebuked 
them, when most of them stood back. My guide still 
wondered at my audacity, for of all parties he had 
guided he seemed to say to me that no one had shown 
such downright bravado before. But it was the best 
thing I could do, to trust them as my hosts. Two of 
them persisted in feeling around my clothes for val- 
uables, when they were severely reprimanded by him. 

Taking a chance, I smoothed out the sand, and fell 

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AROUND THE WORLD 

asleep. It must hare been about two o'clock when I 
was awakened by something being pressed to my 
lips and a pair of long legs standing over me. The 
moon had sunk behind the mountain-wall, but I could 
see the forms of several others near by. My first 
thought was that I was being robbed, when I sat up 
and received into my hands a big bunch of juicy 
grapes, which he and his mates had foraged. 

Xear Jacob 's well a woman and her daughter asked 
me for "backsheesh.''" which I refused, when they 
seized my staff and refused to return it until I had. 
tipped both, for you can possibly get along here with- 
out money, but you must have your staff for protec- 
tion. At high noon we reached the "VTell. just as did 
the Saviour, and I sat. as he did. tired, thirsty and 
hungry, on the low curb, quenching our thirst with 
water, not from the dry well, seventy-five feet deep, 
but from a cistern. The water that did me the most 
good was the kind Jesus spoke of here. Passing into 
Samaria between the two high hills. G-erizim and 
Ebal. children rudely followed us down one of the 
only two streets, and they parallel, in the town of 
twenty springs, and several hundred Samaritans who 
look for Christ the first time, in six thousand years. 

The third day we came to the threshing-floor of 
Abraham, where the woman-dressed farmer threshed 
his grain with young cows and piled the wheat on the 
bare ground. Not far away we came to a spring 
which my guide said was poisonous, as were numerous 
other ones. He had been in the habit of drinking 
before I drank, and finally, at the last spring, he had 
washed his face in it. ending up by washing his feet. 
before I had drank. As he was doing this. I grabbed 
him by the neck and threw him aside, threatening 
damage to his looks if he ever did it again. Near 
Dothan. where Joseph was sold, we lunched under 
a fig-tree, and in it, for the keeper sitting below it, 
let me climb up in it and eat all I wanted for a met- 
elik — one cent. 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

Bedouin Courtship 

Tn the camp a boy may see a girl lie fancies, when 
he shows her his affection by speaking to her more 
politely than to another, and he may offer to carry 
something for her ; or he may walk with her from one 
tent to another, fifteen to fifty feet, but they mnst 
not go ont of sight. Courting would help neither 
party. The main consideration is money. The father 
seldom parts with a girl for less than two hundred 
and fifty dollars, or its equivalent in five cows, some 
sheep and a donkey. A donkey is always included. 
The man who can pay this amount gets the girl. The 
question of love or taste finds no place in the bargain. 
Girls are married in their twelfth and thirteenth year, 
and pretty ones often at ten. A boy and girl about 
eleven were herding cows. She was his wife, and 
she was enceinte. At Jericho a little boy was to have 
been married to a little girl at a certain hour. He 
couldn't see any sense in it. So he ran away, and was 
found playing marbles. No lover is sure of his bride 
even after he buys her. At least half of the money 
must be paid down before delivery of goods, and some- 
times the father will raise the price after receiving 
this amount, especially if she be good looking, or 
talented. 

The groom does the inviting, to his house or tent, 
for the wedding, the men coming by themselves, and 
the women likewise. Then they dance, the men with 
men, the women with women, until late at night. 
Then the groom serves all with a tiny cup of coffee- 
grounds, when they depart, those from a distance 
being allowed to sleep under the same tent or out on 
the bare ground, or even on the roof of the house, if 
they have one. The next day, or soon after, the groom 
and bride go to the mosque, followed by the people 
in informal procession, where the sheik or muezzin 
reads that portion of the Koran relating to marriage, 
after which the girls take the bride, the boys the 
groom, to the groom's house, which is a new tent, or a 

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AROUND THE WORLD 

corner of the old one, of his father. They may dance 
again, after which all squat on the ground, when the 
hat is passed for a collection, each donation being 
called out in a loud voice, as ' ' Nahum Sebuk, ten 
cents, ' ' ' Ximal Bilky, five cents, ' ' the wealthier giv- 
ing as high as fifty cents, which call for loud cheers. 
Then comes the supper, the marriage supper referred 
to by Jesus, prepared by the groom's family, and all 
in one big dish, first, a layer of bread with soup 
poured over it, then a layer of rice, over which is 
placed a layer of roast mutton or beef. The dish is 
set in the middle of the floor, when the guests hur- 
riedly gather around it, the men, of course, leading, 
and the others, men and women, next to these, each 
one's face close to the back of the one next, when they 
eat of the meat and rice, handing out small portions to 
those out of reach of the dish, the outer ones some- 
times getting no meat, and but little rice. These 
finish the bread. Coffee is served in little cups, three 
or four sufficing for the whole number. Then the 
groom gives the hint that the time for leaving has 
come. If they do not go at once, he takes more for- 
cible means. 

He is then alone with his bride. After the marriage 
privilege he leaves her for a moment and fires a pistol 
in the air to let the village know that another family 
das been added to the community. The "best" man 
hangs around the tent until the firing, when he 
shouts aloud to their health. The next day, the 
groom, having prepared another feast, for the same 
guests, goes about the village, crying: "Come! All 
things are ready ! ' ' 

An old maid is a girl eighteen to twenty. No one 
wants her. That is why her father sells his daughter 
so young. He is sure of his money. 

These Bedouin travel about much like gypsies, and 
they are fully as ready to increase their prosperity, 
by one means or another. Some of them were hard to 
get rid of, and the party with the greatest number of 

166 



WITHOUT A CENT 

fighting men usually wins out. I found out a plan 
which always prevented trouble, providing it could 
be used. On meeting these desert folk I always saw 
to it that I bade them the time of the day, first, be- 
fore they had spoken to me, when they would politely 
return the compliment, without stopping us. I would 
say: 

"Naharak sa-id!" (Blessed good day.) And they 
would answer : 

"Naharak mubarak!" (Yours be blessed) most 
deferentially. 

When they treated me to coffee or water in the 
desert, I said : 

"Diama!" (Thanks.) 

"Beti betak!" they replied. (My house belongs to 
you.) 

On entering the Valley of Jezreel, I was glad to 
find a village in which a prosperous Moslem received 
guests into his house, so that for one night at least 
there would be no wild animals or roving bands of 
thieves to molest us. Fried chicken was served for 
supper, and lemonade was made from water taken 
from a pool in which the ducks swam, the dog waded, 
and the horse drank. That night we were all trying to 
sleep on top of the house, the men at one end, the 
women at the other, fighting mosquitoes, when we 
heard cries from below. From the edge of the roof 
we could see the father giving his two boys a cold bath 
in this same pool, holding them down under the water, 
their lusty yells rousing the other guests, who 
wrapped in white sheets and moonlight looked like 
spectres craning their necks over the wall. 

"Just think!" said one of the feminines, "and our 
lemonade came from that hole !" 

In the morning I counted three hundred bites by 
Moslem mosquitoes over my body — mosquitoes 
hatched from that pool. With quinine and ammonia 
I fought the fever off for weeks, for typhus raged 
in that town. 

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AROUND THE WORLD 

I turned aside to see an Arab Tournament by 
Gibeon's Fountain, where young men did fancy rid- 
ing at the edge of the probable town in which Jesus 
raised the only son to life, each wearing calico dresses, 
carrying old pistols that threatened not to stay 
cocked, and long muskets that went off in most any 
direction. The men then danced in a small circle, by 
threes and fours, swinging by a center man who 
thought he was playing a rude reed piccolo, the men 
humming a jargon and setting their feet down with 
rather pretty effect, shouting and leaping wildly at 
intervals. I knew the dislike of these men to have 
their pictures taken, so I tried to get a ' ' snap ' ' with- 
out their knowing it. Some one saw me do it, when 
they all broke from the ring and surrounded me. 
"With the dollar or so that I carried, I could not frank 
the crowd, so I backed away, tossing a metelik in 
their midst, hurrying away as they struggled to find 
it. Yelling and cursing, fifteen or twenty followed, 
seizing me, when one of them pointed his cocked pistol 
at my head, as the others began to fumble my pockets. 
With a quick sweep of my hand I brushed the gun 
aside and shamed them for attacking one so defense- 
less, when the leader called them off, my guide of- 
fering me no assistance whatever, and hoping I would 
be robbed that he might come in for his share, a rule 
followed by these guides. After I hurried away, the 
men mounted their horses and dashed after me, but 
for some reason, changed their mind, wheeled and 
flew back, their little horses bending and turning 
under them with the fury of untamable wildness. 

Nazareth, thy streets are holy walks, 

Thy dust is precious gold ; 
Thy caverns and thy faded rocks 

Are fair as stories told. 

"Ta'al bukra daha sa'a arba' unuss!" I said to 
my guide, in Nazareth, the evening before we set out 

168 



WITHOUT A CENT 

for the Sea of Galilee, the longest sentence I ever tried 
on him. (Come to me tomorrow morning at half 
past four o'clock, for Galilee.) "Na'am," he re- 
plied, and clogged down the steps from the hotel. 

At Cana's only water supply, the spring at the edge 
of town, beautifully dressed women bearing large 
jars on their heads and shoulders, came and went 
in a constant stream. Resting here awhile, we took 
up our journey for the lake, lying between tan- 
colored, russet-hued mountains, six hundred and 
eighty-one feet below the sea, one of the prettiest 
bodies of water on the earth. A French lady invited 
me to join her in a boat-ride across the lake, on Sun- 
day morning, a wonderful excursion, and one of the 
best sermons I ever saw, and twelve miles long. Our 
little ship was a row and sail boat like Peter's, with 
four big Arabs at the long oars. 

Sea of Galilee, enchanted, 

Where the Saviour's feet were planted. 

Magic lake of waters blue, 

I am sailing now on you. 

The lake rolled at first, but soon fell into a glassy 
smoothness, so that I could read my little Bible, when 
the New Testament became as real to me as a letter 
from home. Jesus, as the preacher that morning, 
told us that Capernaum would be utterly thrown 
down. We passed Magdala to Capernaum's ruin. 

With a hook and line made from a horse-hair I 
fished in the lake on Monday with no more success 
than Peter enjoyed before Christ came to him, but I 
could see hundreds of fish gliding around my hook. 
Three times I went swimming in the lake, and as it is 
fifty to five hundred feet deep, I did not wade much. 

In an old synagogue at Tiberias I was taken up into 
the pulpit, and at my request the Book of Genesis 
was delivered to me, from which I read, in the old 
Hebrew, "In the beginning, God " the graybeards 

169 



AROUND THE WORLD 

looking on in puzzled wonder, faces beaming, glad 
that a hiking tourist could read the Bible in their 
own tongue. 

While waiting for "coffee" in the Carmel House 
in Haifa on the Mediterranean, a town half Moslem, 
and many Germans, I dashed off twelve lines which I 
sold to a patriotic soap-maker. 

Fairest town in all the land, 

Verdant Haifa by the sea ; 
Bright with shells upon thy strand, 

Haifa, gay and full of glee. 
Set in groves of graceful trees, 

Olive, byzerine, and palm, 
Odors sweet are in thy breeze, 

Life, and joy, and healing balm. 
Haifa, on thy crescent Bay 

At the foot of Carmel green, 
Take from me my simple lay, 

Let me call thee Syria's Queen! 

On Mount Carmel I found with some hazard the 
spot thought to have been the Baal Altar, where I 
built one of twelve stones, descending from the 
tangled brush and scrub-oak to the Brook Kishon full 
of water, through Druse villages to Zammarin, where 
wind-mills, fertile fields, grazing herds, and good 
roads, made this Hebrew-German settlement an oasis. 
Ill with the fever begun on the housetop, I asked for 
some hot water, but was refused by the Jews, because 
it was their Sabbath, and they said they could not sell 
anything on Sunday. I did not want them to go to 
hell for selling me a little hot water. They could give 
it to me. One was so tickled to hear me speak 
Hebrew, he went away and told everybody that a 
stranger was in town who could speak seven lan- 
guages. 

"We are not running a hotel," was the arrogant 
answer of a German in his home. 

170 



HOLY LAND 




Bearing Water Jar to Cana Springs 




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HOLY LAND AND CEYLON 




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WITHOUT A CENT 

Then a young German with two chums came along, 
who asked me all about my tour. I was too weak to 
talk much, but believing it might win the needed hot 
water, I endured the pain, barely able to stand, when 
I told him I was decidedly ill and would like to have 
a little hot water. 

. "I must go and pray," replied the fellow, in good 
English. 

"Will you come to me afterwards?" I then asked. 

"Yes, I'll be back soon. I must go to church now 
and pray. ' ' 

Two hours passed. People were going to bed. Two 
plain Arabs were eating a late supper on the ground 
near us. These men understood, and without my ask- 
ing, these gentlemen of the desert set out for me two 
dishes of steaming hot food, which they had cooked 
there on a litle fire, refusing the money I offered them. 
This hot nourishment, part soup and part solid, cured 
me almost instantly. "When were you hungry, or 
thirsty, or naked, or in prison?" "A cup of (hot) 
water ! ' ' Then I laid down on the ground and waited 
all night for the praying hypocrite. 

The next morning we walked to Caesarea and 
boarded a little sailing vessel for Joppa, thirty miles 
down. In the high wind our vessel lay on her side, 
and was dripping water, when a canvas was stretched 
along the side and securely fastened. On the way 
the men tried to exact three times the rate agreed 
upon, waving their fists in front of us, and all but 
striking us in their fiery demonstrations of bullying. 
But this did not take all the fun out of the sail, and 
the charm and uncertainty of being sAvamped at sea, 
miles from land, added to the excitement of the 
voyage. 

On a path bleak and wild, we started at sunset for 
the city, trying to sleep on the ground but troubled 
by scores of howling wolves. 

At noon we began climbing the mountains, bleak 
but grand, that are around about Jerusalem. 

173 



AROUND THE WORLD 

I had walked three hundred miles. Often in my 
walks I could see the entire land in one grand sweep 
of vision. Just as if I had come up to attend it, the 
Feast of Tabernacles was going on. My home was in 
a Jewish family of five girls and boys, for I wanted 
to live awhile with the "Chosen People." As I sat 
at the table with the family I imagined the time of the 
old Bible characters. My breakfasts were brought to 
my little room by one of the girls. One morning I 
went with the father to the Synagogue, where every- 
body walked about the church with their hats on, in 
time of service, amid the greatest confusion, every one 
praying out loud from the Old Testament, ducking 
their heads forward and in circles, the Chief Pharisee 
of them all up in the reading desk, acting more 
ridiculously than any others. The church was lighted 
by dirty oil lamps. No art was visible, and the one 
important feature of any religious service, the women, 
was shut off by a lattice in the balcony, and few young 
people were present to stimulate these pious anachro- 
nisms. 

INTO EGYPT. "MASTER" OF THE SHIP 

Having heard of my adventures over the Holy 
Land, the Khedival Line, inerested in my plans, 
handed me a free ticket, my first and only free ocean 
ride. Armed with this compliment of their recogni- 
tion, I was rowed out over the violently washed rocks 
by five athletic Arabs to the S. S. Dahkalie, for Egypt. 

As my pass did not call for meals or berth, I was 
making my rude bed of ropes and canvas at dusk, 
when a sailor came up, and said : 

' ' The Captain wants to see you, sir, in First Cabin. ' ' 

I followed along the slanting deck, puzzled as to 
his motive in sending for me. He met me at the door 
of First Cabin, talked a few moments with me, then 
asked me to come in and take a seat at the table, in- 
troducing me to his wife and daughter, now being 
served soup as the first course of the splendid meal. 

174 



WITHOUT A CENT 

From that moment I was their guest, and when I left, 
I was asked to come in for all of my meals ! 

I was rejoicing* with feelings unutterably grateful 
while putting the finishing touches to my bed of ship 's 
rope, as I looked eagerly forward to taking my meals 
in the First Cabin, when the Captain himself came up 
to me, saying : 

"Come with me !" 

I thought maybe he had regretted asking me to 
come into his presence for my meals, and I followed 
him in doubt as to what he was about to do. He took 
me into his elegant state rooms, three ensuite, as if to 
show me the superb equipment, the nautical instru- 
ments, the chic bath-room, and the luxurious bed. 
As he left me, he said : 

"You may occupy my headquarters during the 
voyage. Be at home here. Read the magazines, take 
a bath, or do what you like. When ready to sleep, 
there is my bed of clean linen for you. I'm going 
down with my family." 

Without waiting for me to recover my senses to 
make a suitable reply, he was gone. I could hardly 
have been more surprised if he had turned his com- 
mission as Captain over to me, which in a way, he 
had done, for there were the signal buttons : 

"Full Speed," "Beverse Engines," "Man Overboard," 
"Fire on Deck," any one of which I could have pushed. 

I began at once to enjoy everything, by sitting on 
the soft cushions, walking over the fluffy rugs, looking 
into the compass as its jewelled needle quivered on 
its pivot, looked out of the Captain's "Squint," to see 
if all was well on deck, and over the sea ; took a hot 
bath, then a cold douche ; drank of the iced mineral 
water ; wrote my notes out on the polished table under 
brilliant electric light ; read again the story of Joseph, 
and crawled in between soft merino blankets, glad 
that the Captain had "forsaken all and cleaved unto 
his wife." The suite of rooms amidships, high up on 

175 



AROUND THE WORLD 

the first deck, was worth, if they could be rented en- 
vovage, one hundred dollars a day. 

For a side-trip I took a fast train to Cairo, fifty 
miles along the Suez Canal, then into the awful desert, 
and out again into a most fertile plain of Indian corn, 
big bunches of ripening dates hanging high on palms, 
while Egyptian farmers plowed, planted and culti- 
vated, harvested and marketed, at the same time, 
planting the seed from boats, in the mud below the 
overflowed Nile. Crossing the Nile on a ferry I was 
soon on the back of a camel in the Libyan Desert, 
where like great clouds of smoke, the simmering 
simoon rolled over the vast vault of death, making me 
shudder at the thought of my camel breaking off into 
the limitless lure of billowy banks of sand. It was 
the last of October, yet the sun burned its beams 
through my clothing, and blistered my skin. The 
Sphinx did not appeal to me. But the great Pyramid 
was worth entering, as with candle I followed the 
Sheik by the tortuous channel to the very heart of it, 
where in the old sarcophagus of Pharaoh I laid down. 

Back at Port Said I caught a French Liner for 
Ceylon, crossing the Ked Sea where the waters parted 
to aid the Lord's people, and came together again to 
destroy their enemies, with Sinai in the distance, hun- 
dreds of flying-fish rising out of the water by our 
side, flying a quarter to a half mile, and then, as if 
hating to do so, dropping back into the water. Be- 
cause I could talk a little Greek, the Greek pastry- 
man fed me with baked sweets, and the Chinese 
frappe-man took me down six floors to the ship's re- 
frigerator, where I helped him make ice cream, eat- 
ing a dish or two to see if it was all right. 

IN FRAGRANT CEYLON 

We landed at Colombo, on the wonder-filled island 
of Ceylon, where I registered with scores of other 
passengers at the Grand, having about enough money 
in my pocket to buy a sandwich. My travels had 

176 



WITHOUT A CENT 

taught me that I was a Bank, myself, and when I 
needed cash, I drew, on myself. This is the only 
bank that never fails, the only one with unlimited 
resources. Its cash deposits are greater than that of 
the First National, and its doors never close. Like 
anything else, you must have faith in it. But more 
than all else, you must draw on it. About the worst 
calamity that can overtake the average person is to 
lose their pocket-book, or become "broke" far from 
home. But my joy was just as exquisite when in Lon- 
don I found myself with nine pennies in my pocket, 
as when in Naples I had gold and to spare for my sea 
passage on a beautiful steamer for a two weeks' 
cruise. If I have no boat or train to catch, with plenty 
of time, I do not worry when without funds, whether 
a mile, or a million, from home. I simply plan a way, 
to earn my way, and get away. 

After tiffin, or lunch, I rode over the strange city, 
and out into the jungle, every inch a veritable fairy- 
land of human and physical curiosities. Though very 
hot, it was still very agreeable. No speech, no gesture, 
no exclamation can come within a thousand miles of 
telling just what you see, and how you feel, in this 
supreme circus-land. The air is different, the noises 
soft and sweet, mellow and soothing, lulling with un- 
dertones and overtones of dreamy weirds, enthralling 
with spells of romance that hang the hours, like 
golden gems, about the lovely neck of Day. Rever- 
ence, steeped in ages of religious devotion, customs 
and habits, boiled down to the concentrated essence 
of the bizarre, greet you with profound respect for 
themselves, the brilliant array of multi-moving man- 
ners amid the flashing landscape, entirely new to you, 
enthralling and enthusing. Gorgeous palms rose 
everywhere, singly and in groves, all kinds and 
shapes, tinged with the most delicate of greens, hid- 
ing bowered homes amid strange flowers and foliage. 
Countless throngs came and went, right in the street, 
making me dismount to avoid collision, every man 

177 



AROUND THE WORLD 

wearing a bright red or blue parasol or a ruffle about 
his thigh. Big bare-legged men with only a breeeh- 
cloth ran wildly about, pulling after them two- 
wheeled rickshaws holding one or more natives or 
tourists, like children at play; and when men were 
not hitched up, cows were. 

In the suburbs I came upon a native funeral pro- 
cession headed by a jungle band, the corpse a woman, 
in sitting posture, borne on the heads of four young 
men in a sort of landau adorned with cheese cloth, 
strings of pop-corn and candy, the dead wife and 
mother riding as if to her coronation. Behind came 
the black husband, a colored towel about his thighs, 
carrying his little boy. As the musicians played and 
danced in a circle, the people fell in line behind. 

It seemed that I had landed in a different world, 
and at first I was afraid of these queer people. The 
men took turn in digging the grave, after which in- 
cense was burned at the side, when the body was 
taken into the arms of one and handed down to two 
men in the grave. Then a relative jumped in and 
stripped it of all ornaments, from legs, toes, arms 
and face. A few pennies were then tossed into the 
grave, with some candy and fruit for her to eat on 
the way. 

At supper three old men as waiters, in white 
dresses, with hair done up on top like a woman, 
brought me soup, roast-beef, curry-and-rice, and 
pepsin melon, this melon growing on trees instead of 
vines, and digesting the biggest meal almost instantly. 

Billed to lecture in the City College, I hired a coolie 
to haul me there in a rick at so much an hour ! To my 
dismay I found that he was "working" me by the 
hour, hauling me near the college and turning aside, 
around and around, for blocks. The hour for the 
lecture had come and so had the people. In despera- 
tion I seized him by the hair and in tones that made 
his eyes jump, commanded him to take me to the hall 
immediately or I would execute him on the spot ! 

178 



WITHOUT A CENT 

For a week I was guest of the Good Templars in 
my own private bungalow in the Cinnamon Gardens, 
with a servant to bring my meals, and one to look 
after the house. Around me were millions of strange 
bugs, butterflies and birds of gaudy hues. Then the 
ground was of that pleasing red which artists love to 
mix, much like sienna, that quiets and soothes rather 
than excites. Cinnamon Gardens must have been the 
Garden of Eden. 

IN THE LAND OF MYSTERY 

Entering India at the South, I found bridges and 
road washed out by recent floods, requiring my going 
by train to the great Baptist Mission Field at Ongole 
and Nellore, via Madras, seeing enroute the famous 
temples at Madura and Trichinopoly where hideously 
deformed depravity crouched like demons, the very 
gate of the temple carved with disgusting figures, 
with sensual orgies inside devoted to the god of Lust. 

In a Dak Bungalow built for tourists by the gov- 
ernment I lived for a time, and in a double tent. I 
feared three animals here, the tiger, the scorpion, and 
the cobra, many thousands of natives dying each year 
from the bite of the cobra, and other thousands be- 
ing carried away by the tiger. The sting of the cobra 
is almost certain death, in great agony, in a few hours. 
At the home of a missionary where I was entertained 
a few days, the wife, about to retire, heard a noise 
in the bed-room, and called for a light. There, near 
the bed, was a six-foot cobra, standing up from the 
floor, its ugly flat head swinging from side to side 
ready to strike. The native servants were called, but 
they only threw up their hands in horror. Then the 
husband grabbed a shot-gun and fired, putting out the 
light, leaving them in total darkness. When a match 
was hastily struck the cobra was found to have been 
killed. The natives protect this snake, refusing to 
kill it, and set a saucer of milk out to it when their 
own babes are starving, worshipping it as it crawls up 

179 



AROUND THE WORLD 

to eat. Caught one night in the jungle, I made my 
way back to town in abject fear lest the next step 
would bring me within striking distance of the deadly 
snake that stands on its tail with flattened head as 
big as your hand, two or three feet above the ground. 
The scorpion with sting in its tail was also to be 
feared, as also other animals that bit at both ends. A 
black scorpion, near my tent, when teased with a cane 
would roll up his tail over his back and then let it 
fly just like a whip is cracked, the sting being located, 
like a bony hook, at the end. Danger from these pests 
increased when my tent was flooded with water dur- 
ing the monsoon. 

But the greatest danger in India is from the sun. 
' ' Let A Little Sunshine In, ' ' is never sung here. A lit- 
tle of it, through a nail-hole in the roof, striking the 
head a few minutes, would be disastrous. To cross 
the street on a cloudy day, bareheaded, might prove 
fatal. A "sick headache" results from a little sun 
on the head, temples, or back. You must wear a coat 
on the hottest days to keep the sun from the back- 
bone ! Visitors to the missions seldom heed these 
warnings, and some of them never get back home. 

One morning a native walked in ten miles from the 
jungle to be married to a girl in the school. His 
head-dress of sixty yards of cloth with clean shirt 
and dress were all propped up by a big umbrella 
close to his skinny wife of eighteen with bracelets, 
fingerlets, anklets, earlets and noselet, everything but 
a house-to-let, all of pure iron or brass. The noselet 
hung just over the mouth and was irremovable, so 
that when he kisses her he has to ' ' lift up the latch. ' ' 
That evening the newly-weds took their honeymoon 
on a ten-mile hike. As she grows in character, the 
heathen rings, on fingers as well as elsewhere, will 
disappear, there, as in civilized lands ; she must teach 
the folly of the caste system that holds one hundred 
thousand sets of natives completely under its leaden 
thrall, writing queer characters in chalk over the 

180 



WITHOUT A CENT 

forehead or on the doorstep, keeping other castes at 
a distance of ten feet ! 

The carpet in heathen homes was of cow-dung 
plastered over with bare hands, including the steps at 
the door, and chairs, if any. When this has dried it 
is the same as if the house had been scrubbed and 
dusted, when guests may enter. But should you or 
I enter, or any one not of the caste, the lady of the 
house must at once on our departure go into the street 
for a fresh supply of the soft "carpet." 

Beautiful for its fine architecture and wide streets, 
I rode north from Bombay, through a wild jungle, 
where roads, food and water were hard to find. A 
native climbed an eighty foot palm to bring down a 
bunch of cocoanuts from which I ate and drank, their 
milk being the only safe fluid I could find. Sleeping 
out and roughing it, with inadequate protection from 
the sun, I soon felt oncoming illness. A Brahmin in- 
vited me to breakfast with him on the floor of his 
house, with two wide banana leaves several feet long 
for our dishes on which porridge was served, with 
milk that I could hardly get into my mouth with my 
hand for a spoon, he meanwhile extolling the virtues 
of his Idols, which I was about to accept, on trial, 
had the milk not chased me about the room, or had 
not, when I landed some of it in my hand, ran down 
my arm and over my face. Our dining floor was six 
inches higher than the other floors because it was 
the room of the males, while the females occupied a 
room with floor six inches down ! 

A MAN-EATING TIGER 

The man-eating tiger in India is a frightful foe to 
natives and tourists. While here, fourteen hundred 
and six people were devoured by this ferocious beast. 
Horses in harness had been attacked and killed right 
in the very suburbs of Bombay. I was miles out in the 
jungle. Night after night a tiger had robbed a vil- 
lage of its natives. The railroad company, knowing 

181 



AROUND THE WORLD 

the terror such a beast inspires, offered a big reward 
to the brave hunter succeeding in killing it. Three 
Englishmen, armed with Winchesters, accepted the 
offer, and were carried by the company to the jungle 
town at the edge of which ran the railroad. Here 
their special was sidetracked, used as a dwelling by 
day, and as a fort at night when the tiger usually at- 
tacks. The men slept through the day, and with 
cocked rifles leveled out of the windows that also an- 
swered for doors, waited for the man-eater from in- 
side. Two of the hunters, by their commanding posi- 
tion, swept the entire country toward the jungle. The 
rifle of the other guarded the people as they slept in 
their shapeless shacks. 

The third day came. That afternoon when the 
men awoke, the idlers around the car said the tiger 
had gone. No one saw it go, but they were sure it 
had gone. When night came, however, the men 
watched as usual. The fourth night, but no tiger. 
The loafers were surer than ever the tiger had gone, 
and made fun of the hunters. Half-believing what 
they said, the men drank more freely of "spirits," 
to keep off the fever, they said. When night, with 
its leaden wings outspread, stole over the village, it 
found the hunters more drunk than sober. But the 
watch was set. 

The stars came out and flooded the jungle with 
ghostly glimmering of light. The full moon rose 
shimmering over the coast of Malabar. At ten, quiet 
and safety reigned over the jungle. At midnight all 
was well. Liquor had overcome the man on the vil- 
lage side, who was now falling over himself in 
drunken snooze. The two hunters then decided to 
doze a little, each taking a nap after the other, the one 
awake to give the alarm. This game of "Now you 
sleep and I watch" dragged on until some time be- 
tween three and four, when all three were in drunken 
dreams. 

And while they slept the tiger came ! He sprang 

182 



WITHOUT A CENT 

through the open window, seized one of the men and 
was off, the fellow screaming for his life, just as the 
moon sank behind the cocoanut palms ! 

All they had to do was to pull the trusty trigger 
of their forty-eight calibre rifles, and the spotted ter- 
ror would have spat out his life-blood at the wheels 
of their coach. That day the news of their killing the 
man-eater would have flashed all over the country. 
They would have been worshipped as heroes. Ball- 
rooms, dazzling in Indian splendor, were ready to re- 
ceive them. The most lovely women of the empire 
would have been their partners. Receptions at Court, 
and obeisance in the street, awaited their victorious 
return. 

My curiosity to meet one of these cannibals in his 
lair was greater than my fear. The crackling of brush 
ahead startled me, but I believed I could somehow 
escape. Usually the noise had been made by fleeing 
deer or chattering monkeys, or by reptiles and smaller 
prey. The most interesting was the monkey, always 
in bands, which would take to the smaller trees where 
they would snarl and make hideous faces. Great 
flocks of gorgeous parrots flew near. In towering 
banyan trees fed by hundreds of descending root 
branches, hung, upside down, mammoth bats, their 
wings extending feet instead of inches. Now and then 
a dark native would pop up from the underbrush, 
surprising me more than all the other wild life, 
and when I rode into these backwoods villages the 
natives fled in terror, leaving their huts, unused to a 
bicycle. 

I found some schoolmates as missionaries with 
whom I spent a night, glad for the sound sleep I hoped 
to get by their kindness. But during the night the 
rats raced all over and under my bed, up and down 
the walls, and even across the ceiling, dropping some- 
times to the floor. As I knew them to be carriers of 
Bubonic Plague then raging, my rest was less satis- 
factory than it had been in the jungle. At breakfast 

183 



AROUND THE WORLD 

they wondered how I ever got through the jungle, 
while I wondered how I got through the night ! 

At Bulsar I found another schoolmate who "lived 
by the side of the road and was a friend to man." 
On Christmas I gave an entertainment arranged by 
Bishop Stover under a mammoth awning. After a 
feast that evening, I went on to another town where 
another schoolmate honored me with a Hindu 
audience, presided over by the Mayor pulled there in 
his two-wheeled cart by four lean cows, when the en- 
thusiasm of my big opera-house audience overtaxed 
my strength. A second Christmas dinner hastened 
the attack of the fever, but still thinking to throw 
it off, I ventured into the jungle to study the 
monkeys. 

The big dog that followed me proved to be the 
sworn enemy of monkeydom. From behind a clump 
of cactus I watched them at play, holding the dog. 
The kiddie monkeys were turning somersaults, while 
a favorite pastime among the young swells was that 
of picking fleas and lice from each other, which were 
at once eaten with great relish. Then a growl from 
the dog scattered them, when mothers picked up their 
half-grown babies and leaped brush higher than my 
head, the kid hanging below with its arms about the 
mother's trunk, its head at her neck, between her 
arms, its long tail wrapped around her body near the 
hind legs. Then a big male monkey ran to the top of 
a tree, calling loudly, as if to say: "Come on!" Soon 
every monkey of them was in the tree, arranged about 
him in a circle. Although without Roberts' Rules of 
Order, it was easy to see that he was the chairman of 
that assembly. When he finally brought the house to 
order he told them, not to leave the present field for 
a more promising place, to scratch his back, or pick 
a thorn from his foot, but to "get" that dog and 
stranger. With a whoop the meeting adjourned sine 
die, as they jumped headlong at us, the cowardly 
dog, with tail between his legs, setting out for town, 

184 



WITHOUT A CENT 

leaving me at the mercy of the whole pack of scream- 
ing, clawing brutes ! I called him to come back, 
but he ran the faster, while I hit the dust, with 
monkeys ahead of me, on both sides, and behind, 
their eyes on the fleeing dog, but making ugly faces 
at me. 

Too weak to run far, I was glad when the pack 
turned back. The fright and exertion had exacted 
the last atom of my energy, as I dragged my fainting 
body back to the mission, when the train hurried me 
back to St. George's Hospital in Bombay for five 
weeks of typhoid. 

Twice a day I was given a bath by a pretty nurse, 
which much refreshed me, the bath, I mean. My brain 
at night was afire with delirium, compelling me to do 
titanic thinking, big audiences making me discuss 
with passionate earnestness every question of the day 
with all the hair-splitting finesse of the philosopher. 
One day the U. S. Consul came for my name and my 
father's name and address, so he could ship my body 
home ! 

Daylight and doctor, nurse and clean sheets were 
most welcome. Visitors came, the secretary of the 
Y. M. C. A., and friend Stover from Bulsar, with fruit. 
The doctor's visit was best of all. In his natty white 
suit and sailing cap, he looked health to us patients. 
He never said quite enough or stayed long enough. 
Some visitors stayed too long, talked too much, and 
left a bad suggestion. No patient should be made to 
argue. They did not realize how very weak I was, 
and how weak they should appear before me. Paul 
knew this truth, when he said, "Who is weak and 
I am not weak?" I liked the visitor who came to 
my bed in a natural manner as if to do me good and 
not to steal my pocket-book or upset the bed, who 
in going left with me a suggestion of joy or en- 
couragement. 

While convalescing, one afternoon a tall, handsome 
English naval officer entered the wide-open veranda 

185 



AROUND THE WORLD 

and stood looking down upon the empty bed on my 
right. He first removed his helmet, rattling with 
decoration and shining with metallic lustre. Then he 
looked at his coat, blazing with medals of honor, one 
of them pinned there by the King's own hand. But 
that had to come off. At last, in hospital pajamas, he 
drew the light sheet over him. On the other side of 
the room lay a young Irishman ill with what was sup- 
posed at first to be bubonic plague. Next to my left 
was an English official of Bombay, and down the line 
wan faces of Germans and Hindus peeped from under 
white covers. The naval officer looked like the rest 
of us. For we all look alike under hospital covers and 
in graveyards ! 

Books and papers were furnished patients. I read 
almost constantly, enjoying the Bible and "Living- 
stone" most. But this officer did not care for books, 
least of all the Bible. 

His disease was peritonitis, so incurable with 
typhoid in India. He was dying, and his sufferings 
were very great. 

"0 dear!" he would cry. "Bring me another 
drink ! ' ' 

The nurse was busy, and contrary to the doctor's 
orders, I arose several times to help him. 

At evening two officers came from his battleship to 
visit their fellow comrades in arms, and asked: 

"Have you a message to send to your wife in Eng- 
land, Charles ? " 

"Yes, officers, in the morning. Come in the morn- 
ing, won't you?" 

"Yes, Charles, we'll be back at five in the morn- 
ing," they replied. 

At nine he was worse. Then the day nurse came. 
I knew then that someone was going to die, for she 
never came unless one of the patients was not ex- 
pected to live till morning. 

At ten she came in again and asked if she might 
send for the chaplain. 

186 



WITHOUT A CENT 

"No, I don't want the chaplain," he answered. 

' ' May I pray for you ? ' ' she asked, timidly. 

He seemed to reply in the negative. 

A little later she came again and knelt by his side, 
a prayer-book in her hand, while he moaned and 
gasped for breath, his temperature at 107. When she 
began to read the prayer for the dying you could 
have heard a pin fall at the end of that ward. 

At fifteen minutes after one he called for a light. 

"Bring me a light! It is getting dark. I want 
more light ! ' ' 

Two lights burned near. But the trouble with 
Charlie was the hand of death passing over his face. 
The nurse brought another one, holding it right into 
his face, knowing that its brightness would not hurt 
his fast dimming eyes. 

' ' Ainsworth ! Ainsworth ! " he cried, with his last 
strength. Ainsworth was a rough companion in the 
third bed down. At the second call he was by his 
side. 

"Hold my hand, Ainsworth, and stand by me!" 
were his last words. 

"I will, Charles!" said he, and he couldn't have 
let go if he had tried. It was the farewell death grip 
of two boys far from home ! 

I limped to his side, hoping I might say a word or 
pray for him, but he didn't see me. His eyes were 
focussed at too long a range. They were looking 
across foaming oceans, burning deserts, snow-capped 
mountains and great continents ! — thinking they saw 
a little cottage in England, nestling among haw- 
thornes and cherries, in Kent, thinking they were 
looking through the shutters into that little cottage 
where the young wife, busy with needle, a little flaxen- 
haired boy by her side, was now holding a photograph 
of the long-absent father as he lay dying, ten thou- 
sand miles away, in India. That picture was the fore- 
ground and we were the background of the sailor 
officer's last scene on earth. 

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AROUND THE WORLD 

His head fell back. His breathing stopped. 

W W TT ^F w •$(• W 

At two o 'clock he launched his bark upon the Sea 
of Death ! At two o 'clock he dared to go before his 
Captain without a pilot. At two o 'clock he ventured 
into the presence of his Judge without his Christ. 

That afternoon at four o'clock the bell tolled thirty- 
times for Charlie as the nurse played on the little 
organ in the little chapel of our ward, when we heard 
the TRAMP! TRAMP! TRAMP! of the feet of those 
who carried Charlie 's body out of the ward down to 
the boat bound for England, going back to the little 
cottage in Kent ! 

To add to our terrors, one of our patients, allowed 
to leave the ward too soon, had overeaten and had 
returned with a relapse, dying in two days. Another 
discouragement was the dying right around us daily 
of eighty to a hundred natives with the plague. We 
feared to breathe the very air. But I was recovering. 
On the 18th of February the nurse no longer took my 
temperature. From a menu of buffalo milk thinned 
with water I was given egg custard, the supremely 
best-tasting thing I ever ate. Then beef tea and 
custard. On the fourteenth day of convalescence I 
had a small bowl of finely crumbed white bread and 
milk that tasted a hundred times better than ice-cream 
to a well man. Next day I had a poached egg and a 
pint of milk. Seventeen days after the fever I had 
bread and butter, the crust carefully cut away. 
Minced boiled fish, boiled potatoes and tapioca fol- 
lowed. Eating an orange one day I could not con- 
trol my greed for it and swallowed a seed. Instantly 
I knew what might happen. I could feel that seed 
like a lump of sharp lead in my stomach and intestines. 
Fever began to return. I became decidedly uneasy. 
I told the nurse, who told the doctor- That night the 
day nurse came just as she had come for Charlie. The 
doctor came too, more anxious than I. There wasn't 
much fun or sleep for some of us that night. But I 



WITHOUT A CENT 

prayed. The next day I knew I was out of danger. 
I learned to walk again by leaning on two black 
servants, then with a wheel-chair and with crutches, 
and then out to face the world again, my hospital bills 
paid and twenty dollars in my pocket. My daily 
expense had been only thirty-three cents for every- 
thing. St. George's Hospital should be duplicated 
everywhere. The state, rather than the individual, 
should look after the sick. 

The best mission field was the best workshop. The 
native must be shown how to make a pair of shoes out 
of less leather than he puts into a pair for fifty cents, 
and get five dollars for them. The Hindu sits down to 
dig a post-hole, and four or five holes is a day's work. 
A native was running a lathe with his feet; still 
another with his mouth. A Gujerati woman borrowed 
the rubber water bottle of my friend to cure the 
cramps of her grandmother. After the old lady died, 
which she did, he sent for the bottle. Not coming, he 
went for it. "Oh!" said the woman, crying, "we 
had bad luck. We filled it with water and was hold- 
ing it over the fire when the rubber all fell to pieces ! " 
A doctor pow-wowed for a sick woman. He placed 
her head on one stump, her feet on another, urging 
her to maintain her body over the gulf without falling 
through. Then he set a tub of water on her stomach, 
the rascal bowing and scraping around her, when she 
finally broke down, dying soon after. The medical 
missionary is swamped with patients. Doctoring them 
is his best opportunity for Christian service. After 
hearing the mission kiddies sing "Precious Jewels" 
I went to another part of town and in a heathen school 
was saddened beyond words when I saw scores of lit- 
tle child-widows not yet twelve years old who never 
sang, and whose lives were bitter, their hair shorn, 
jewels taken away, nice clothes replaced by rags, 
their baby faces marred by hopelessness ; mistreated, 
jeered, beaten by all. To be a missionary in India 
is the sine que non of ambition. 

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AROUND THE WORLD 

Passing through a region where marriage takes 
place in periods of eleven years, when every girl must 
be married, and if unable to fine a mate a proxy must 
be substituted until the right man comes along, I rode 
through the gate of the far-northern city of Delhi 
and saw the largest Mohammedan mosque in exist- 
ence, where fifteen marble domes were tipped with 
gold. At Agra I saw the Taj Mahal three times, morn- 
ing, noon and night, built as a monument by Shah 
Jehan over his beautiful wife and queen, Mum-taz-i- 
Mahal, whom he loved. The delicate beauty of the 
marble latticework inside is impassably great. The 
mosque here is lined with pure marble, flowers, fruits 
and animals of India, being perfectly traced in 
precious gems, cornelians, rubies, sapphires, agates, 
diamonds, pearls and emeralds. A dishonest tourist 
could pick out a handful with his penknife. The floor 
itself was laid in gems. Preferring the fool's jewels 
rather than the gems of the mind and the true gold 
of character, these Mogul kings built well in marble 
and jewels. 

Although it was winter time and in the north, the 
heat was almost unbearable. The natives travel in 
great numbers. Every train is filled with them, their 
heads, arms and oftentimes their legs sticking out of 
windows. Thousands of them climbed out of the 
coaches at Benares and other thousands had walked 
in from the jungle hundreds of miles to bathe in the 
sacred Ganges. Thousands of these Hindus were 
bathing in one place near the burning-ghat, the water 
so slimy with filth, stinking sewers and dead bodies 
it would make good mucilage. Heathen priests sold 
this fetid water for so much a ladleful. At this burn- 
ing-ghat several corpses were partly consumed, then 
tossed into the river. Other bodies were being carried 
past the missionary's home, where I stood, with the 
lady in charge, when she noticed one of the corpses 
moving his toes. She hurried out to discover that the 
man was still alive, when she stopped the procession, 

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WITHOUT A CENT 

as the corpse, demurring, sat up. The "dead" man 
argued with her with such strength as to lead her 
to assume that he could still be of service in his home. 
So she demanded that he be taken back. 

After a rest in the luxurious Grand at Calcutta, I 
took the train for the Himalayas, passing through jute 
and rice fields in the valley, and rising into the cool 
atmospheres of little mountain towns amid gorgeous 
foliage and rocks. As if they were the happiest peo- 
ple in the world, the natives smiled at us, even while 
carrying incredible burdens upon their backs. The 
little two-foot-track train of cars crosses and recrosses 
its own track in spirit climbings, my typhoid nerves 
barely able to enjoy the sudden curves and the seem- 
ing indifference the train had of staying on the rails. 
Great varieties of ferns grew up here on stumps, 
trunks of trees, and even in the tree-tops, while some 
trees bore mammoth cluster flowers, of deepest crim- 
son or snowy whiteness. 

Darjeeling 

With two footmen and a guide I set out on a nervous 
steed from Hotel Rockville, the only hotel located in a 
safe position from landslides, to see the highest moun- 
tain in the world, Mt. Everest — twenty-nine thousand 
feet — and then down the mountainside to a tea-estate 
of fifty thousand acres ! The tea is grown on bushes 
about the size of the raspberry, and trimmed back in 
such a way so as to dwarf it into many short branches 
affording the maximum number of small leaves which 
make the tea. Natives were picking these leaves in 
baskets for the big hoppers in the "factory" where 
the "breakers" and "curlers" changed the olive green 
leaf into shrivelled bits of faded "tea," The smaller 
the leaves, the better the tea. The very smallest that 
can be picked make tea that sells for fifty dollars a 
pound. While there I chose to drink the fifty-dollar 
variety. On a hill near the Tea Estate I saw some 
flower-trees at their best, the flowers being as big as 



AROUND THE WORLD 

your head, white as snow, or red as blood, each com- 
plete in sepal, petal, stamen, and pistil, the botanical 
wonders of the Himalayas. 

While descending the mountains we were all but 
wrecked, as at full speed of nine cars, loaded with tour- 
ists on a sharp curve over a precipice, the train was 
stopped a car-length from a stalled ox-team. If the 
brakes had not instantly worked, we would have been 
hurled down from the precipice, thousands of feet. 
The curve in the track at that place, and the down- 
grade, together with the nearness of the edge of the 
mountain wall, made this inevitable. That night we 
met with another fright, where some Hindus, dis- 
charged from the service, spitefully tied steel crow- 
bars across the rails, the sharp flanges of the locomo- 
tive wheels cutting the bars in two, and saving us. 

EASTER IN BURMA 

Forty thousand a week were dying from the plague, 
ninety-eight per cent fatal, and when I landed at Ran- 
goon, I was ordered to appear before the health officer 
for ten days — long enough to see the Burmese and their 
country, the streets aflutter with silks worn by men 
and women, the natives intelligent and docile, but 
proud and lazy ; where nature 's ways had changed, for 
big melons grew out of trees at the end of branches 
like an apple, or right from the trunk ; and where rub- 
ber oozed from the bark of other trees like thin muci- 
lage from a leaking can. Here white ants ate the 
houses rather than the provisions stored in them. In 
many houses I saw these ants at work, building their 
tunnel of clay up the supports, to the joists, and then 
to the rafters, never showing themselves except when 
their tunnel of clay is broken, and working usually at 
night. They feast on the heart of the timber, hollow- 
ing and honey-combing it, so that no matter how strong 
it may look on the outside, and how well painted or 
polished, it falls with its own weight, when pillar and 
post, joist and rafter all go down in terrible and com- 

192 



WITHOUT A CENT 

plete ruin with the enemy that did it. Fortunately 
there is one wood, a most excellent kind, too, the teak, 
which is not bothered by these ants. This wood is 
used for building purposes, and for furniture. 

There is a tree here that has to be licensed, just like 
a saloon, called the "toddy" palm. It grows in many 
places in India and may be cultivated in similar warm 
climates. When an intoxicant is wanted by the owner, 
or by a passer-by, all he needs to do is to climb into this 
palm, bore a little hole and hold a vessel to catch the 
sap, or hang one there while he goes about his work. 
It is much desired as a drink by those who would other- 
wise frequent a bar, and a little of it makes a man 
drunk. I saw hundreds of half cocoanuts and tin cans 
hanging to these toddy trees to catch the liquor, while 
natives staggered in circles, near by. 

The Baptists were operating a big publishing house 
in Rangoon, and their missions seem to control the 
destiny of Burma. Up the Irawaddy, navigable for 
nine hundred miles, but very treacherous, I found a 
college-mate as the only missionary in a town of sixty- 
five thousand, and a parish of three hundred thousand. 
In his hill bungalow I met two old friends — a Conn 
Cornet, and a maple-eye dresser, both of which had 
helped to make my time pass pleasantly in ' ' Old Shurt- 
leff" near St. Louis, and which I sold to him on the eve 
of his going to Burma. 

Cruise Over Equator 

On a Chinese liner, the captain invited me to share 
the ' ' Bridge ' ' with him, where under an awning I was 
sheltered from the intense sun. The food for the 
Chinese was cooked in a large iron boiler which was 
kept going most of the time, as also their chop-sticks 
in this chop-suey. In the first cabin, awkward Chinese 
women with remnants of feet pinched into shoes the 
size of a heel, leaned on two maids with good feet, as 
they went back and forth from the dining table to a 
chair. In second cabin, the women, being lower in the 

193 



AROUND THE WORLD 

scale of Chinese "society" were higher in the useful 
scale, for with loose sandals, or bare-footed, they 
walked easily, their beaming faces telling of the in- 
ward hope inspired by their freedom. 

The Heavens on the Equator were strangely new. 
In it was the Southern Cross, that I had seen also in 
India. The Pole Star was only an hour high. In 
Malacca Strait we passed the Island of Sumatra, and 
then Borneo, the sun right above our heads, with rays 
so fierce we dared not look at it. Typhoons gathered 
and burst about us. Frightfully close, a waterspout 
formed, magnificent in dimensions and splendid fury. 
The whirling cyclone of water reached to a height of 
hundreds of feet, that poured down and sucked up, at 
the same time, a whirling volume of water, that would 
have instantly destroyed our ship and all on board. 
Larger and larger it became, higher and higher it 
lengthened, until its funnel of solid water was a thou- 
sand feet high, with a circumference, at the bottom, of 
a thousand feet, tapering rapidly to a narrow neck or 
waist that swayed and bent like a giant rubber hose, 
enlarging at the top where it joined the clouds, black 
and ominous, that rolled and fused like contending 
hosts, the ocean meanwhile churned into violent foam. 
An old sailor said it was the most terrible one he had 
ever seen. Two little sail-boats were being drawn into 
its voracious maw, but as we put on speed, to keep 
clear of its path, we could not know whether or not they 
were finally sucked up and lost. At this time there flew 
on deck a little sparrow pursued by a hawk. It rested 
for hours in the low-rigging, picking up such food as 
I offered it, the hawk lurking on the highest mast and 
getting only what was thrown overboard, which was 
very hard for it to pick up. The sparrow must have 
been chased for many hours as it no sooner lighted on 
the rigging than it fell asleep. One night I was asked 
by the captain to give a moonlight ' ' reading ' ' on deck. 
On passing the hat, three silk-clad Mongolians dropped 
in a silver dollar each. 

194 



INDIA AND BURMA 





Rocking Baby While Grinding 
Himalayas 



Bringing Down Cocoa- 
nuts for Author from 
80- Foot Tree 





Since Touring World 




m 







-#toos<>rf ^tW 




WITHOUT A CENT 

I LAND IN CHINA 

Among bleak islands the boat sailed into one of the 
finest of bays, with Hongkong hanging to the lower side 
of the island mountains. Here I found the American 
hotel just far enough up the hill to hide in a cool for- 
est atmosphere. Twenty-course meals and a lot of 
sleep in a big, airy room, put me in shape for a jaunt 
into the interior. 

On the mainland the roads were easy to ride, but as 
the guide posts were all in Chinese, I couldn't tell 
whether I was coming or going. I hired a ' ' coolie ' ' to 
haul me in his ' ' rick, ' ' but neither of us could tell any 
better where we wanted to go. Our journey came to 
a halt when, hurrying him along too vigorously, he sud- 
denly dropped the fills, letting me go on — astraddle of 
his neck. He took the situation rather too seriously to 
agree with the humor I saw in it, and when I finally 
extricated myself from his cue and was again seated, 
I ordered him to "gee" around, and take me back to 
the beginning of things. 

On an all-night steamer ride up the Pearl River to 
Canton, I was asked to tell of my travels from a box 
of Quaker Oats. Being the only European aboard, one 
of their number, who spoke English, acted as my in- 
terpreter. 

"What is wrong with China?" asked one, as they all 
waited my answer. I knew what was the matter with 
that great, ambitious nation, but for some reason I 
did not say it. I should have said : China, like all 
promising futures, needs Jesus Christ. Had they 
evaded my hat when they passed it for a collection as 
I had evaded that question, I would have been short 
of change when I landed in Canton. But the poorest 
among them cast in their mite — a square copper with a 
hole in it, worth one-sixteenth of a cent. 

In the moonlight, and at dawn, I studied the scenery 
along the river, where hills melted, into rolling and then 
flat land, the higher portions crowned by pagodas. 
A strange kind of bird sang a song by the river bank, 

197 



AROUND THE WORLD 

and farmers went about their fields with braided sticks 
down their backs and funny sacks for coats. I found 
the same hopes and aspirations in the hearts of these 
Chinese aboard as you would find among tourists bound 
for the Dakotas. The little babe hung on the moth- 
er's back asleep, while women stroked its forehead or 
kissed its quivering lips. Venders of peanuts and 
sugar-cane sticks passed through the crowd. The 
women were modest and the girls were sweet. 

When I walked down the gang-plank I was met by a 
lank Indiana freshman giving orders there to hun- 
dreds of celestials while on his vacation to earn some 
money, and help China to western ideas. On the other 
side of the river, Pittsburg locomotives were running 
around on Carnegie steel-rails, as American foremen 
were showing Chinamen how to build and run a rail- 
road. 

Every street in old Canton was a Barnum side-show. 
Too narrow for any vehicle except those carried by 
men, the bewildering maze of swinging signs and jost- 
ling natives, compelled me to take a guide. When he 
took me into a big dry-goods store I thought my last 
day had come. The doors were instantly closed, and 
locked. The clerks and proprietors all moved toward 
me, but I stood my ground like a brave man. That's 
all I could do. If I could have run, I would have done 
it. 

"No chargee for lookee!" they said, as I walked 
back from the display of rich silks and souvenirs to- 
wards the doors, which were politely opened, as I went 
out and another customer, a lady, came in, the doors 
closing on her as they had on me, my guide explaining 
to me this Chinese custom of putting the entire force 
of salesmen at the service of the customer. 

I saw the dirty old temple of five hundred gods ; got 
out of the way of the wheel-barrow hauling a hog on 
one side and a man on the other; bought candy that 
was not very good, and some cheap souvenirs ; had my 
meals at the only American hotel ; and visited, the big 

198 



WITHOUT A CENT 

penitentiary. As I entered, the big iron gate clanked 
shut behind me, leaving my guide and myself right in 
the midst of a most miserable lot of prisoners, most of 
them chained. I was about to give one of them a coin, 
when I remembered that I was in China, where the 
rules and regulations governing criminals were not so 
humane as our own, and lest I break a law that might 
commit me also to that very prison, I put the money 
back into my pocket as with pained face the man drew 
back a disappointed hand. Out in the Square felons 
were pilloried by heavy planks on which were printed 
their names and crimes. Those to be executed in a few 
days — river pirates — were teased by children, who 
tickled them on the nose, or kicked them, the vic- 
tim retaliating with an ugly face, and by spitting at 
them. 

With this out-of-date punishment in my mind I 
walked out of the big city gate in the old wall, and from 
the outside saw running over that great wall hundreds 
of telephone and telegraph wires, bearing the electric 
impulse of light and love throughout the Empire. Be- 
low, in rude niches in the wall, sacred tapers flickered 
out their fading flame. Half were dead. The others 
only smoked. Up there, in those wires, the silent 
servant of Christian faith, in her triumphal chariot 
of the electric spark, bore the sweet message of Love 
and Liberty to four hundred millions. 

A WEEK IN OUR MANILA 

It was good to steam into Manila Bay, where lay 
our own men-of-war. Behind the city, and on either 
side, rose bold mountains, dark with foliage, while 
Cavite, the scene of the Dewey victory, lay eight miles 
to our right, the old hulk of the Reina Cristina still 
floating as a souvenir of that breakfast victory. See- 
ing so many lands not our own, it was inspiring to set 
my feet on ground looked after by us. I was proud 
of her lively scenes and new prosperity; to meet our 
fine officers here, walking so erect and manly, with clear 

199 



AROUND THE WORLD 

eye and poised self-confidence — the Stars and Stripes 
flying from the public buildings. At night the Lunette 
— the park beach — drew a constant stream of pleasure 
seekers to hear the American band ; the Filipino pony, 
with tantalizingly pretty nostrils and sweet-tempered 
eyes that flashed the tricky white when desired, and 
heavy mane that flew about and almost covered the lit- 
tle animal, always present. 

In the Y. M. C. A. at Cavite, I read Webster's speech 
in Congress, when he said he did not believe the settle- 
ment of the whites would ever go beyond the Ohio, and 
when I addressed the soldiers and sailors here we had 
fun at Webster's expense, for the book, itself, had come 
all the way across the Ohio, the Mississippi, the Mis- 
souri, and all the western states, to San Francisco, 
where we built a ship, and brought that very book 
across the Pacific, past Hawaii, to Uncle Sam 's victory 
in the Orient ! On the way back to Manila, our launch 
ran close to the old Spanish wreck, when thrills of in- 
spiration set my blood atingle as I recalled how we 
changed the tide of western civilization and flung open 
the door to world-wide dominance in good cheer and 
glad industry, setting the jewel of Hope agleam upon 
the brow of our ' ' Little Brown Brother, ' ' and turning 
all eyes toward us as the World-Redeemer ! 

I Buy a Ticket for Uncle Sam's Country 
Our transport Logan lay at the fumigating station 
loaded with human cargo of soldiers, officers and pri- 
vate citizens homeward-bound, when a movement in 
the water turned my attention that way. It was an 
octopus, a yellowish, many-armed fish, partly floating 
on the surface, whose myriad arms now twirled and 
wound among themselves as they sought the object 
interfering with their sea rights. Another sea curi- 
osity was the nautilus — a shell-fish that hoists a tiny 
sail, and travels hundreds of miles. Soon the sea was 
full of these little ships, the only ocean-going vessels 
never sunk by the roughest gale. Catching one, I 

200 



WITHOUT A CENT 

found it to be a good model of a miniature man-of-war 
of the Monitor type, with sail set in the middle of the 
deck at such angle as would maintain its equilibrium, 
and give it the greatest chance to make headway. 
Though only a few inches long, it was built for endur- 
ance, while its speed astonished the soldiers and oth- 
ers now watching the race between hundreds of them 
on the high seas. 

I bunked low down with the soldiers at twenty-five 
cents a day, but after nine days I was allowed to change 
to second cabin, with meals in first cabin, paying fifty 
cents more a day. There seemed to be too much dif- 
ference in the quality of the food served the soldiers, 
and that of the officers and civilians. The boys who 
fight Uncle Sam's battles deserve the best that their 
Uncle can give them. Uncle Sam had provided better 
things for them. It was the red-tape of profiteering 
whereby one or more individuals in his employ en- 
riched themselves by a "rake-off" at the expense of the 
boys. 

Here is a first-cabin meal : Soup, roast lamb, prime 
roast beef, roast goose, mashed potatoes, corn, olives, 
apples, dates, nuts, raisins, plum pudding, strawberry 
ice cream, cake, coffee, tea. 

Our only thrill at sea was when we sighted a big 
drove of mammoth whales, following each other at 
regular intervals, a half dozen spouting at the same 
time, their long, curved backs showing above the 
water. When the leader saw us he tried to hide with 
such speed as to make great circles of waves about him 
that would have easily swamped an ordinary row-boat. 
Evidently they were on their way to a feeding station, 
on a course as direct and certain as though guided by 
compass and transit. 

TWO DAYS IN JAPAN 

Japan was a new world, unlike anything I had seen, 
the houses being the most beautiful in lightness and 
strangeness of architecture. I took four rickshaw 

rci 



AROUND THE WORLD 

rides the first day, and on the second day was pulled 
out into the country amid flowers and gardens, and 
fields of real old Japan, where I said ' ' Ohio ! " to any- 
one I met on the road, when I wanted to say "Good 
morning ! " It was queer to be pulled along the coun- 
try roads by a light-footed steed — my handsome Jap — 
and then, in a fast trot, over the Japanese bridges built 
of bamboo. "When I came to a steep hill I always 
walked, more to lighten the burden of my faithful nag 
than for exercise. He stopped at every tea-house along 
the road, and I had a cup of tea, with him, in every 
one of them. The tea was poured by little women who 
looked like little girls. We were never given cream 
or sug*ar for our tea, but as the price of a cup of their 
best tea was only one sen — a half a cent — I couldn't 
expect these luxuries. Japanese money was easy to 
handle, the yen being the unit, and worth about fifty 
cents. 

The Japanese appeared to be more courteous, but not 
so sincere as the Chinese. Their promise, though more 
readily made, is not so sure to be fulfilled ; their goods, 
while showing great ingenuity and beauty, were less 
durable and practicable, veneered and tinselled. In 
municipal improvements the Japanese excelled the 
Chinese— such as I saw at Nagasaki — and their sani- 
tary conditions are much better. 

ONE DAY IN HAWAII 

As soon as the "Logan" anchored in the charming 
bay I went ashore with my wheel, and rode far out on 
the excellent roads, amid tropical scenes such as you 
see in pictures, the summery houses woven with mat- 
ting like huge flowers gone to seed, sheltered under huge 
palms, the blue waters of the Pacific gleaming through 
defiles of bleached volcanic scarf, as natives in "shoe- 
string" shirts waved welcomes, drawing the soft music 
from ukuleles. As we were about to sail away, soft- 
eyed girls hung garlands of flowers about the necks of 
the Americans. 

202 



WITHOUT A CENT 

Enter the Golden Gate 

After three years of travel thrill, my bike and I, 
that had sailed out of "Hell Gate" on the East, now 
sailed into ' ' Golden Gate ' ' on the West, San Francisco 
rising like a fairy wonderland up from the bluest of 
tranquil bays, where the unexampled enthusiasm of 
the city's leaders was about to sketch, along a beacb 
unparalleled as a perfect setting, the world's most 
triumphant exposition. 

I landed with TWENTY DOLLARS IN GOLD. No 
one who has not journeyed far from his native land 
can imagine just how I felt. Happy is not the word. 
It is much more than mere happiness. I was in my 
country. "Breathes there a man with soul so dead, 
who never to himself has said, 'This is my own, my 
native land ! ' " 

Featured by the press of the city, and invited to 
the pulpits of the triune-gemmed bay, San Francisco, 
Oakland and Berkeley, to tell my travel ramblings in 
twenty countries, I rode out of the "Hanging Gar- 
dens," on June 30, for the fruit farms in California, 
God's fairest out of doors! 

An Unexpected Question 

Since "circumpedalling" the globe I have been 
seriously asked by many young men whether on my 
travels abroad I did not break the sixth command- 
ment. I have never ridden on a "merry-go-round," 
been shaven by a barber, smoked my second cigarette, 
or taken the name of God in vain. 

I want to be physically and morally able to win the 
girl God has for me. My chances for doing this will 
be best if I live a true life- I have felt the indescriba- 
ble thrill of ' ' falling in love, ' ' and I know there is no 
other joy or force so overwhelming, so commanding, 
so uplifting and so superior to the mere physical 
attraction upon which it may be based. Innocence in 
love is the most inexpressibly wonderful of all earthly 
joys. Since the course of true love does not seem to 

203 



J ROUND THE WORLD 

run smooth, I have been tempted, with all others, 
when the higher seemed unattainable, to accept the 
lower. But I have refused the one, if I may not have 
the other, the higher. The girl and boy who steal 
these sweets, lose infinitely more than they gain, 
for lust robs of that fine flower of modesty, sub- 
stitutes a tricky countenance of suspicion for one 
of frank openness, takes much of the sweetness 
and power from the voice, and weakens the imagi- 
nation, reasoning and judgment. It closes the 
door of ambition and warps every sinew of life. 
It deprives of the supreme quality of leadership, 
intellectual and moral initiative, and brings the 
victim down to the beast, where desire for higher 
things becomes too weak to gain them. The most 
disgusting of all sinners is the libertine or adul- 
terer. 

Miracles of achievement are possible only to the 
pure. They can do the impossible. The love of a good 
girl, in the life of the right kind of man, seals him 
from temptation by lower desires. If he isn't the 
right kind of man, and his love for her does not trans- 
form him, with her as his only object of feminine 
affection, he is unworthy of her. 

I have refrained, young gentlemen, for at least six 
reasons : For the sake of a probable future wife and 
children; to avoid trouble growing from such sin; 
to become skilled in the highest accomplishments ; to 
preserve strength of character ; to avoid disease ; to 
honor God. 

I will enumerate here my modest achievements thus 
far: Graduated high school course with honor, four 
years; worked my way through and graduated col- 
lege course with honors, four years ; worked my way 
through last year (1911) university course, divinity 
and literary, three years ; worked my way around the 
world alone, three years; Chautauqua and lyceum 
platform, two years; movie theatres, six months; 
worked my way from Chicago to San Francisco in 

204 



WITHOUT A CENT 

one hundred towns, one year ; worked my way South, 
three months. 

During all of this time and up to this date, Decem- 
ber 15, 1921, I have not technically broken the sixth 
commandment. My strength and endurance is in- 
creasing rather than lessening. I can swim ten times 
farther now than during my college days, and can run 
twenty times farther with less effort. 

^? ^F •J? •%? w w ^ 

From Leland Stanford University, the flower of a 
night 's heartbreak, I wheeled into Santa Clara Valley 
and hired out to pick apricots and prunes, eating 
myself full and picking some besides. 

I saw the Golden State from one end to the other 
on its beautiful roads, the best on earth, and hiked 
over its mountains to look down upon a myriad of 
fairy cities whose prosperous splendor would have 
made the Promised Land look like a deserted desert, 
bathed in its tropical ocean surf, lived with the people 
in their idyllic homes and was entertained at her 
munificent hotels. 

On the sublime Sierras I sailed on Lake Tahoe's 
magic waters, where mountain scene and tint of lake 
vie with wonders abroad, a lake twenty-one miles by 
eight, fifteen hundred feet deep- I saw the ' ' bucking 
bronchos" and cow-girls ride on bare-backed bulls; 
the limitless land left waiting the energetic easterner, 
the ten-thousand-acre farms that ought to be cut 
up into many homes; the Colorado Rockies and her 
dashing rivers, to the great Father of Waters, to Illi- 
nois, where after three years facing the East I was 
greeted at the west door of our home by my mother ! 

My 40,000-mile thrill had ended ! I had cycled the 
globe ! 



205 




p<<7 MUTUAi 

Mr "; 




TOUR 



RLDj&WHEEL 




REV. HENRY M. SPICKLEU 




Regan Printing House 

CHICAGO 



58 



